


Acting Out in the Name of Love

by SilkHandkerchief



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 61,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkHandkerchief/pseuds/SilkHandkerchief
Summary: What if they were not mere roles? What if they were people? How did those two sibcons come to be? How did innocence become so dangerous? This is my take on their origins.





	1. The Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story where the Heel Siblings are real people, not acted personas. As such, you know the ending already: the set of Tragic Marker where those two are introduced. My aim is to have the events we have seen in the manga be explained by this backstory if we take out all the Kyoko & Ren bits.
> 
> What this implies is that I will have to cover approximately 12 years of their lives. This is one of the reasons why my chapters are short: I do not want to get bogged down in endless details involving things like slumber parties and soccer tournaments. Instead, I focus on meaningful interactions that highlight their lives in that period of time. As much as this might qualify for the 'slice of life' genre, I don't want to demonstrate every day boring life. I want to share the cuteness of the younger siblings and the way life forces them to change bit by bit by bit. (Frankly, I probably wouldn't be capable of completing the story if I got stuck working out all those details; I am not that good of a writer.)
> 
>  _Be warned:_ this story isn't all butterflies and sunshine. If that is what you are looking for, this first chapter should probably also be the last one you read. But it isn't all sad depressing stuff either: I aim to balance the positive and negative to keep it an interesting read. That is what real life is like, after all: ups and downs.

## 1\. The Way Home

15 December 1999, after school

My earliest memory is … well, I’m not quite sure. I am pretty sure it involved Nii-san on a swing, while I was watching in the sand as he was swinging to and fro, pulling silly faces to try and make me laugh. Embarrassingly enough, I think we both ended up trying to eat the sand pie I ended up making; mom and dad were very upset with Nii-san afterwards.

I have heard friends speak of their own families, and to identify with them is… what grownups call a platitude. They speak of younger siblings being annoying and breaking their toys. They speak of older siblings who ignore them as if they were a poopy diaper.

Right now my arms are wrapped around his torso. My fingers interlaced as they rest on his stomach. We’re a bit slanted, so I need to hold on tightly. Very tightly. It is a busy road, and I don’t want Nii-san to get in trouble if I happen to fall off the back of his bicycle whilst we climb up this hill.

“Stop squirming, Setsuka.”

See? Even now he isn’t upset. He’s explained to me a bunch of times that it is hard to go straight if I don’t sit still, but he understands. Those cars, they just wooOOOOOSHHHHHhhhh by us, stinking up our English country-side in the process. I can’t help reflexively leaning away and holding onto Nii-san more tightly!

Finally, the top of the hill. Just for a moment, I can feel Nii-san breathing deeply, his body embracing the relaxation of not having to pull his younger sister along anymore. “Gravity is now pulling us both,” Nii-san explained once upon a time when I asked him about it. He is really smart.

Now the wind blows fiercely through my hair. Some strands are unfortunately getting stuck in my face but it doesn’t really matter. Mom prefers for me to keep my hairties in, but they hurt my head after a while, nevermind the fact that putting them in is a bit difficult. Nii-san usually helps me put them back in when we get home; they are wrapped around his finger.

“Do you know about fingers, Setsuka?”

He asked me this once. Duh, obviously I did. Thumb, pointy finger, all the way upto the pinky. But he was just so gentle as he offered to explain. I just had to play a bit dumb. Just to make him happy.

“This is your thumb. If you make a fist, and your thumb sticks out upwards, you can silently give someone a compliment.”

He was even demonstrating it. Did he think I’m four years old? “I am seven years old already!” I wanted to cry out back then! He should know that; we celebrated it the month before when he gave me that cute bunny stamp.

“This is your index finger. You should never point it at people, because that is a bit rude.”

Back then, I had to resist making fun of his explanation. But now, I just feel all fuzzy as I remember how his earnest expression just made words like those impossible to speak. Embarrassingly enough, I giggled back at him. Daddy had taken away the ink pad that came with Nii-san’s gifted bunny stamp after I filled the living room with a lot of new friends.

Apparently that is not what a ‘living’ room is for. And daddy kept pointing angrily at me, the walls and the furniture every time he discovered a new bunny friend. I cried a lot back then.

“This is the middle finger that you shouldn’t use. It is in the middle because the other fingers help it out with everything!”

I was quite sure people used the middle finger even back then. Either way, the conversation didn’t linger on that finger: Nii-san was eager to move on to the next one.

“And this is the pinky. If you hook fingers like this,” he explained, extending the pinky finger and hooking it around my own, “you make an unbreakable promise.” He paused for a few moments, somehow managing to silence me with those warm, brown eyes of his.

“You can always lean and rely on me, Setsuka.”

I wish I hadn’t been so silly and youthful back then. I thought that I was smarter, so I laughed and ignored his earnestly set mood.

“You skipped a finger, Nii-san! You skipped one! What about this one?”

My voice was childish. Impatient. I cringe just recalling the memories. Only a year has passed… but am I still that childish? That selfish? In hindsight, I can tell he was being so cute and earnest… Sigh.

The bike slows down as we finally reach level ground again at the bottom of the hill. My hands let go of eachother, loosening the grip of my arms around his waist considerably. See? I can think of Nii-san, too.

Our pace is quite gentle now. When I lean sideways to see passed Nii-san, I can already see the sign that marks the entrance to our little town up ahead.

As always, we come to a stop in front of it. Being myself, I am unable to stop from sighing. The bicycle ride is always so magical, tucked snugly against Nii-san’s back.. but our house is just around the corner.

I get off the bike and smile at him. His gaze is so gentle. So sweet. But he still gets off the bike to end our special moment together.

“That is the ring finger. It is where a man wears a ring given by the woman he loves, and where a woman wears the ring given by a man she loves.”

That was his final answer, and it echoes deafeningly through my empty brain when I see him struggle a little to pull the looped hairties off his ring finger. He’s getting better at taking them off though; the first time I kept them there I had to help him roll them off the finger.

My head feels hot just thinking about that.

I hope he doesn’t notice.

Ah, he’s spinning me around. I can feel his fingers going through my hair. Getting all the strands. Even carefully collecting the ones drooping over my forehead.

He has already taken away all the little complaints I used to have. How am I supposed to speak to him now?

The ponytail is folded through the hairties a few times, and even as I think I can complain, he tugs some strands back to make it not pull on my scalp so much.

“Come, let’s walk the rest of the way.”

He says those words casually, and I can only nod, feeling inexplicably happy hearing his caring voice treat me so casually.

Him, the bicycle, and me. That is how we are lined up.

I really want to go over and hug him as we walk. Thank him for being so nice to me.

But as my eye glances over to him, it passes the bike. My gaze looks over the hand holding the handlebar to pull it along.

There is one hairtie that remains around his ring finger.

I want to yell at him… but why won’t the words come out?


	2. Payment in Kind

## 2\. Payment in Kind

6 January 2000, after school

“Cain, you need to look after your sister.”

That is what dad told me when I met Setsuka for the first time a few hours after she was born.

Or so he tells me he told me; I honestly don’t remember. When you aren’t even two years old, memories aren’t really a thing yet.

But he repeated those words often enough. It became a bit of a thing.

“You can skip classes, you can lie and you can steal; I don’t care as long as you take good care of your sister.”

That’s what he said once when he was a few bottles in during a poker game with his friends. Sometimes I wonder if he’s more proud of her than he is of me, his oldest son!

But none of the things he says are things he meant, save for the bits about Setsuka. He’d hit me with a paddle for every minute of class that I’d miss. He has made me eat a spicy pepper the last time he caught me in a lie. Thus far, I haven’t tried taking anything that wasn’t mine, and I honestly have no intention of doing so either.

I fear what he would come up with.

But he won’t have to worry I will mistreat Setsuka.

No, it has been shifting. He’s worrying I treat her too well.

That’s the gist of this lecture, right?

I tune into the world around me just a bit as dad is yelling at me again. Ah, yes. I shouldn’t be picking her up at school anymore. The road is too busy and too dangerous. On and on goes the rant. It was a bad time to tune back in.

“How many times are you going to give me a heart attack? She wasn’t at school anymore. Are you trying to hurt your little sister with your irresponsible shenanigans?!”

The rant continues. I stay silent. My brown eyes meet his. He is frustrated because I don’t come up with excuses.

Excuses are met with slaps. After all, a real man does not make excuses. Then again, a real man does not get slapped either. It is an interesting conundrum I can only ponder because of my past experiences that recommend utter silence.

Eventually the moment comes. I get to ‘bugger off’ whilst he struggles to find a different way to vent his frustration at being a bad parent.

I want to look for her, but she is in dads study. Homework. I definitely can’t go there right now.

He used to let her do her homework in the living room, but that became inconvenient once he decided I needed straightening out. She doesn’t need to see it.

Then she used to do her homework in her own bedroom, but it turns out you don’t leave that girl around all her toys and other distractions.

Ah, I’ll go visit mom. She’s probably in bed again. I climb the stairs, my feet as light as a falling feather, making sure he doesn’t overhear. He’s worked up enough as it is.

Right now Setsuka ought to be sitting at his desk in his study. Doodling. Probably some flowers. Pink flowers. She is fond of that color.

I wonder if she has doodled on his desk and books. His encyclopedia, perhaps? It has bunnies in it.

She probably has. But there won’t be any punishment.

Sure, he’ll yell a bit. But Setsuka is Setsuka. A holy existence in the Heel household.

I knock lightly as I arrive at the closed door. There is no response, so I slip into the room.

There lies mother. Her smile is calm and gentle as always, her eyes inquisitive and filled with touches of melancholy and concern.

Once, she was a homes-visiting nurse with extra-ordinary bearing… yet now she is a patient with the patience of a saint.

“Did you go to pick her up again?”

She inquires this of me with her hoarse voice.

I nod. My chin is lifted up, my eyes peering into hers with a force that is in direct opposition to the lack of bravery in my heart.

Her gaze is a gaze I fear.

It is strange that I do, for it is so soft and gentle. She had blue eyes once, but they appear grey nowadays. I barely remember their splendor. Sometimes shining, sometimes murky, but undeniably grey.

Mother is a gem that has lost its luster. And it hurts.

“I am glad you went. I know your father does not agree, but you know how he gets. Don’t blame him; he is a good man despite his flaws.”

Her smile is radiant. How can it be so radiant when her eyes lack that light completely today?

“I know. How was your day?”

I inquire this of her, my hand balling into a fist. Will she even tell me the truth? Would I believe her if she didn’t?

“Wonderful. I heard the angels today. They are waiting for me.”

The cheer in her voice cuts me like a knife.

I do not wish to lose her. This soft and gentle existence that gave birth to me and her.

“Please, don’t joke like that, mother.”

My voice sounds forced, even to me. I can feel some of the anger pulsing in my veins - I take more after the old bear than I’d like.

“Haha. I am sorry to worry you, dear. But they truly told me Saint Peter is looking forward to meeting me.”

Her laugh is innocent. Like hers. Fleeting, yet this one undeniably contains a heart of suffering.

We talk a bit more. I help her out with the things she cannot do anymore. Showering is near impossible now, so I help her with a sponge bath instead.

Father has probably barely noticed the extent, but I can tell her grip struggles nowadays; her formerly firm hand now struggles to handle the buttons of her nightgown as she puts it back on.

Eventually, it is time for me to leave the room. I wish her well as I always do, promise to come by later and all the rest. They aren’t empty promises, although Setsuka sometimes makes the night fly by with the promises following suit.

Talking of Setsuka, I happen to bump into her as I leave the room. She’s going to show her doodles to Mother. I make sure to raise my voice a bit as I look over it and praise everything I can about the picture.

“Such pretty pink flowers. And is that our house? With mom and dad, and me and you? And Rufus? You are really improving!”

My voice sounds a bit hollow to me, but she doesn’t notice. She smiles radiantly. Her eyes twinkle. She resembles the unencumbered mother I remember so much. Nearly without my realizing, she soothes the waves of the rage that brews inside of me.

I can’t resist ruffling that hair of hers, but it instantly earns me her ire. She isn’t really mad - her eyebrow isn’t twitching - but I had clearly forgotten to pay mind to that sensitive scalp of hers.

With the apologies done, I depart down the stairs as she goes to show her drawing to mother. As the door is pushed closed by Setsu, I can hear mother’s voice praising the flowers. And Rufus. And the way she drew the house.

Setsuka is the only one in the house who doesn’t know.

Those sparkling lights are not the only thing to have disappeared from mother’s eyes.

Mother’s eyes have lost their light three months ago.


	3. Fracturing

## 3\. Fracturing

3 April 2000

Things were fine the way they were.

Nii-san wanted me to believe that.

Mom wanted me to believe that.

And dad… I guess he did, too.

But I do not understand.

What happened?

Why is everything broken?

My mother went to visit Saint Peter?

Nii-san left us?

Dad got hurt and is sleeping really deeply?

I don’t understand.

Why am I alone?

Why is mom’s casket lowering.. and why am I the only one here?

Where is Nii-san?

Why is he not here?

I want to feel his hand on my shoulder.

His hands wrapped around my waist in caring fashion.

The chance to bury my face in his chest.

To cry my tears out, and not have strangers see.

Is that too much to ask for?

“Where are you, Nii-san?”


	4. Mending

## 4\. Mending

16 July 2000, at church

It has been forever. Almost forever. Okay, three months.

Adults think children are idiots.

Heck, children think children are idiots.

But Nii-san didn’t. Or at least, he didn’t treat me as such.

He would not have danced around the matter so much.

‘Sorry Setsuka, mom has passed away.’

What is so difficult about that?

Nii-san would have had that courage.

.. alright, I’ll admit that I’ve been in a bit of denial. I guessed it, but didn’t really want to accept it. Sure, mom had trouble holding pens and cups and such, but how does someone just disappear like that?

Fake-mom said we could find out in church. So that is where we are going right now. She prefers I call her Clara over that name, but I am not an idiot. Foster parents, fake parents, it’s just a few letters worth of difference.

I remember mom who pulled me and Nii-san around in the snow on a sled.

You cannot replace her, fake-mom. You may try, but you can’t.

And because you try, you are fake-mom.

There is also a fake-dad, who prefers to be called Chris. I call him Chris, because he leaves me alone.

Except today. He’s here too. Together with fake-mom. She probably roped him into it, always poking and prodding me to leave ‘my’ room. So frustrating!

As we enter the church, the sky-high ceilings elicit an unwanted gasp of wonder from me. If Nii-chan were here, I think I’d feel like a stupid little girl for gasping like that, but I don’t really care if these two think of me as a little girl.

Those drawings on the roof are nice.

There’s a lot of little statues all around, placed against pillars and on little ledges.

The way the light shines through the coloured windows however, is what makes tears escape my eyes. Dammit, I don’t want to cry!

But that is Saint Peter. The sun shines thru right behind him.

It looks heavenly.

Is that where mom has gone?

My hand grabs for the necklace my mother gave me for my fifth birthday, a cute silver cross. Nii-san always called me pretty when I was wearing it.

The fakers are at least considerate enough to let me be for a moment. But eventually we move to a place with a lot of little candles, and fake-mom tells me about praying and believing and trusting and a whole lot of other nonsense.

Will that tell me what you won’t tell me?

Do I look like an idiot to you, fake-mom?

Still, I light the candle.

And I pray.

I hold my little cross, and I pray.

I pray for mom.

I pray for dad.

But above all, I pray for Nii-san.

Where are you, Nii-san?


	5. Reckoning

## 5\. Reckoning

20 July 2000

“Protect your sister, okay Cain?”

This one mere sentence is like the refrain that keeps my consciousness as a whole. Even in the sheltering darkness of my closed eyes, her cute face is the one thing that keeps me grounded.

Because if it is not her, I see her.

A weakness. A snuffed out candle.

A posterpiece for the beauty of death.

A peaceful smile. A yearning, almost.

For death? For release? For meeting Saint Peter?

As I open my eyes, I see the therapist flinch. He tries to cover it up, but I noticed. He is afraid of me.

Afraid of me. A ten years old kid. Isn’t that ludicrous?

“Yes. I very much regret what I did. Every day.”

My voice sounds hollow despite its steadiness. I can hear the earnestness as much as I feel it in my bones, but there is no way I can fake tears or other such a half-hearted emotion.

“Well.. that’s good. Does that mean you are ready for your treatment? To stop fighting it every step of the way?”

I sigh. It’s a frustrated breath, from deep inside my body.

“I am not the one that needs treatment. He is.”

It is more of a growl, a final stand that betrays the bottom line. There is only so much responsibility I can take.

“So you have said, Cain. But he was not the one to punch his father into a coma. You realize that, right?”

“BUT HE WAS THE ONE TO DRINK. HE WAS THE ONE WHO GOT HER KILLED!”

Without my realization, it already burst out again. I don’t even notice it anymore. That all-consuming anger, it is always there, just underneath my skin, bubbling and yearning for a reason to burst out.

Credit to the therapist, he didn’t flinch this time. Then again, it isn’t the first time I exploded at him like this.

“She passed in her sleep. I know you want to blame him for losing her and your sist..”

“DON’T YOU DARE BRING SETSUKA INTO THIS. DO YOU WANT TO JOIN HIM? DO YOU? SHE IS INNOCENT. LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!”

I already jumped up from my chair before I knew. The restraints are, unfortunately for him, not attached to the chair, so I actually managed to make it one step. Unfortunately for me, my hands are tied together, and my legs can barely do more than shuffle.. so I don’t make it anywhere close before a security guard runs up, yanks my shoulder and tosses me back into my seat.

Fucking wankers. All of them.

“Okay. We’re not talking about Setsuka. We’re talking about her. Take a deep breath, Cain. In and out. Slowly. Don’t speak. Just listen for a moment, okay?”

He searches my face for some sort of agreement, but I guess the fact I wasn’t retorting is enough to encourage him onwards.

“This rage isn’t any good, Cain. I know you want to see your sister again, but the authorities won’t let you. Not if you are like this. Do you want her to lose her brother?”

I make a fist in my hand. Again, he is trying to get to me through her! Always using her as blackmail. I can tell. I’ll have him lose his teeth. Mark my words..!

“No.”

He seems to be relieved by my response, I notice.

“Then you should work with us to tame your rage. Right now, you are a danger to everybody around you. Even your sister.”

The joints in my fingers snap; that is how tight my now turned-white fist is clenched.

“You are the ones that took her. Bastard! She is ALL ALONE NOW!”

He smiles, ever so imperceptibly, as if he made a discovery.

“No, Cain. We did not take her. We took you. Because you are the dangerous one. She is with her foster parents. She’s getting good meals every day. She’s attending school. She’s even got a new sibling; an older sister I believe.”

Just those words… I feel like a balloon that deflates. Setsuka is alright. She’s alright! The smile slips on my features faster than I can think of hiding it.

But the anger reminds me. It is just some modicum of alright. Those people are still strangers. Even that drunk would be preferable. He wouldn’t hurt her like that. But people like this therapist…

“Bastard. You better hope they don’t open my restraints right now, you scum.”

They would protect her half-heartedly. They would clip her wings to protect her against the world. To hide her in a box, because the box is safe. Make sure she’s fed, even if it is the same boring food every day. That nobody can hurt her, even if she doesn’t see her own family.

But she isn’t so weak. Not yet.

I need to get to her. Before they make her weak.

“For her. Only for her. You understand?”


	6. Emptiness

## 6\. Emptiness

14 August 2000, at the new school

I’m going to a different school nowadays. Fake-mom and Chris live too far away from where we used to live, so that makes sense.

It was never a problem really, getting along with other kids. But nowadays.. I’m just that weird girl who transferred in halfway thru the school year.

And I don’t really care for what they think. And they, in turn, notice that I don’t care, and then I care even less. Presently, we’re of a mutual agreement that the other party is not worth our time.

Okay, I lied. There’s that one boy that is yapping away right now while I eat my lunch.

He is annoying. He whines. Action figures this. Computer game that. Get the message already: I don’t care.

Frankly, he pisses me off. His cheerfulness reminds me of Nii-san. Who promised to be my rock so I could lean on him.

After uttering a word of apology he probably deserves, I sneak away and find some silence in the girls bathrooms. At least he cannot follow me there.

One lock later, and I can chow down in calm. I think those girls I passed peered at me as I slammed the stall door closed.

Whatever.

The tears are running over my cheeks as I begin to eat.

But I’m not going to make a scene. Just leave me alone, people.

I nearly finished my sandwich when someone bonks on the door of my stall.

“Hey, pipsqueak. You in here?”

Ugh. Her. I had forgotten about her.

Or rather, chosen to ignore her presence at the school.

“No.”

“Don’t be such a wuss! You’re crying while hiding on the toilet again. Boo hoo hoo, you are so sad and nobody can understand. That’s it, right?”

“Get out, Jenny!”

“No, you get out, Setty!”

“That’s not my name!”

“It is now!”

“Then yours is Je.. Jaa… Jellybelly!”

The words slip out of my mouth in anger, but for some reason, the name I came out with makes me laugh. It makes her laugh, too. Damn it. Why did she make me laugh?

“Well.. you’ve got three minutes before I call a teacher. So please come out and have lunch with me outside? I won’t make you do a walk of shame.”

I want to retort, but her footsteps move away and the door to the restroom falls shut.

Sigh. I struggle to eat the final bit of my sandwich, do my business, and finally get off the toilet. The door unlocks - yes, nobody here - and I wash my hands and face at the sinks.

Ugh, my eyes are all red. Better splash some more water on my face. And towel it dry. Eww, why paper towels? Cheapskates.

It still beats the toilet paper that time at that ‘kid whisperer’ person. They didn’t have anything nearby, so I borrowed some of that. The memory of how it tore into pieces as I dried my face makes me feel so embarrassed. Getting that mess of my face required a second round of splashing, followed by my sleeve. In the end, I was more wet than anything else, and those adults just looked at me like I was an idiot who just makes a mess.

The sun is shining outside. I hadn’t even realized how depressing that simple fact is.

Give me rain. Give me wind. Give me a snow storm. And thunder!

Life should not move on..! It should not be so happy!

Ah, she’s sitting there. With that shiny red hair of hers, she is a hard one to miss even if she weren’t the oldest and tallest girl currently in the yard.

On one of the swings.

Why the swings? I shut my eyes closed to repress more tears. There are no sand pies here. It’s just a place to sit. That’s all.

“I see you came, Set..”

“..Suka.” I quickly finish my name for her, trying to glare at her.

Still, a smile is on my lips. I feel it there. An uninvited guest. But I simply can’t help it; thinking of her with a big belly full of jelly is just too funny.

“Pipsqueak, then. I saved you a swing.”

Reluctantly, I move to the swing besides hers and sit down on the swing. Jenny is a few years older; I think she’s fourteen now. I never bothered to ask.

As if to cut down the pointless conversation that is to come, I put all my force into pushing off, making the swing swing with me on top of it.

“I used to be a bit like you in the past. Angry. Frustrated. Mom and dad mean well, though. You don’t have to keep hurting them.”

She’s not planning on swinging on hers though, I notice. It’s perhaps a bit difficult; her legs are a bit too long and these swings were made for younger kids like myself.

“Why? Fake-mom and Chris told me. They are hoping for dad to die so they can adopt me!”

Angry as my words are, the volume isn’t high. Others don’t need to know. This is so embarrassing.

“No, Setty. They want you to have a home even if the worst happens. Like me.”

Her voice pauses a moment, and I can see just a touch of pain reflecting in there. She hides it well, but with our similar histories, I can tell surprisingly easily.

“Mom and dad don’t replace my real mom and real dad, you know? I think of them almost every day.”

I wonder if her parents had red hair like she does. She really stands out compared to the rest of us; I think she might have had Irish parents, because they all have red hair.

Some boys over at the exercising field are staring this way. Sigh. I understand why: even I have to admit she’s pretty. And at her fourteen years old, she just has that bit of mature charm that takes you in, plumbing be damned.

“But they treat me like their own daughter. Do you understand? They want me to grow up. And be happy.”

I take just a moment to look at her chest when she mentions ‘growing up’, and she’s definitely growing.

Would Nii-san ogle her like those boys do?

I feel my cheeks heat up, and respond angrily to hide my embarassment.

“They want me to forget! And then to replace! To forget about mom, and about dad, and about Nii-san..”

Tears are coming out again; I can feel them struggle to escape my eyes. Dangit!

“No! They don’t.”

Without my noticing, she has stood up from her swing and used her larger frame to catch my swinging posture from behind. Those two arms wrap around me from behind. Her face is close to mine, resting on my shoulder.

She doesn’t do anything but hold me. If it were not for her grip, I’d slip from the swing: she stopped it from moving when it was at the apex of its backwards swing.

The tears run down. She cannot see.

She probably knows. So I just sit there, and I allow the thoughts to run in my mind.

I used to hold onto Nii-san like this.

If he were here, would he hold me like this?

Nii-san… is not here.


	7. Direction

## 7\. Direction

13 September 2000, at the Institute

What am I doing?

I don’t really understand it.

Okay, I know what I am doing.

I am in a drama club.

There are some other kids here, too.

And they are having us play out these little stories.

The man who had his wallet stolen. The girl who liked the boy. The lost puppy with the new home. The kid who is angry at the other kid and wants to break his toy. The crybaby that doesn’t want to eat his veggies. And on and on it goes.

I don’t really get the point. But I am trying, because I promised I’d try my best. For Setsuka.

I’m finally playing a little story of my own. In fact, I chose this one, not in the least because I am sure they won’t let me keep watching from the sides all day.

It is the story of the hero saving the damsel.

I thought I could do that. I need to save Setsuka. She needs me like this damsel needs her hero.

The girl I am protecting isn’t very interesting. She’s pudgy with a voice like nails on a chalkboard. She’s not really taking this seriously either; she’s one of those rebellious bad kids.

All of us are in some way, come to think of it. And I can’t say I’m taking this seriously either.

But I’ll try.

“If you want to kiss her, you’ll have to go through me!”

I speak these brave words, but cringe inwardly. Who would want to kiss a girl who never lost her baby fat but still screams like one?

The villain does some sort of dramatic laugh, but it sounds fake. Like it came from a cheesy movie.

“Haha. I will go through you. I challenge you to a duel of wits, and when you lose, you shall watch as I plant my lips on her cheeks!”

EEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkk~~~~~!

My ears! Good grief. Nails on a chalkboard, indeed.

Both the villain and I look at that disinterested face that is giving us one of those ‘u wot, mate’ stares.

The teacher says nothing.

Fine, we’ll continue. I turn back to the other kid.

I want to yield. Kissing this stupid wench would be his just desserts, and this nonsense would be over quicker, too.

No. The stupid wench is supposed to be my Setsuka. Right?

“I wonder what is faster. My sword, or your tongue?”

I reply these words with a flat tone, brandishing a make-believe sword. There is a collective taking of breaths, and the teacher belatedly whistles.

“Cain, fail!”

I arch my eyebrows as I look towards the teacher, but she doesn’t explain. She just notes it in a little notebook.

The former-Setsuka-standin giggles and compliments me, her hand smacking on my ass for some sort of stupid reason. The former-villain just rolls his eyes at me as we move back to the crowd to let the next two get at it.

This is going to be a long day.


	8. Acting Out

## 8\. Acting Out

21 September 2000, at the foster home

As of late, I have felt the need to tell myself.

They are fake-mom, real name Clara. And Chris, the fake-dad.

That is who they are to me.

During the past half year, I have settled into life here.

Is it treacherous to think that I enjoy living here?

Is it treacherous to have started to really get along with Jelly?

On occasion, I wonder why she of all people tries so hard. She’s always here, not giving me the time or space to think about the past. About Nii-san and the promise.

Right now, we’re playing dress-up. Or at least, that is the kiddy view of it. She was quite frank with me earlier.

“Play dress up with my younger sister? Ew. I’d hate to. Everyone would think I was a little kid for enabling you, no offense. Setty.”

She laughed at the statement, and I laughed back. I was sitting on her bed then, just as I am right now. I’m not even running from that stupid nickname anymore, am I? Wow.

“I just want to bond with you. I’ve always wanted a cute younger sibling. And since we don’t share much except our home, I want to make sure to make the most out of it before life takes you away from me again.”

At this, she stuck out her tongue, her fist playfully punching against my shoulder. I blush a little - she is always so forward with what she wants, and I’m not the best with compliments like those.

After that, she got some of her old clothes out, and she had me try them on, eventually having me settle on some cute jeans and a flower-patterned top that don’t fit her anymore. There was a dress or two as well, but she vetoed those moments after I tried them on.

“No. Don’t wear those. They aren’t you.”

She was a bit vague about it, but eh, we were having fun playing dress-up. Or I was, at least. Whatever. Frankly, I could tell that her fun was more in dressing the doll, since she didn’t change into anything else after the second dress I picked out for her.

It’s Jenny’s thing - if she does it first, I have to follow.

And once I follow, she stops leading.

Eventually, I walk alone.

Actually, you might call it our thing now.

She challenges, I bite.

At first she had to goad me, but now.. why deny myself the fun?

“Do you know the most important part about dressing up?”

Jelly inquired this as she dug around in her drawer for something. Her red braid catches the light and provides an interesting contrast with the green dress she is wearing.

Fake-mom clearly dotes on her - it doesn’t look very cheap at all.

She’d dote on me too, if I only let her. I admire her persistence… but she is still fake.

I realize I didn’t answer as she glances back at me, pushing her drawer closed with her bum after having found what she was looking for.

“No. But you are about to tell me, so why guess?”

My response is a bit lazy, perhaps a bit spoiled. But it seems to be something that is effective with older siblings; Nii-san couldn’t get angry at me for it, and Jenny just gives one of those ‘you rascal’ smiles.

It is by far the better option than letting on I was lost in my thoughts again. It just fires her up; she’s not very good at being ignored by people.

“It’s details. Details!”

She plops onto the bed besides me, and pulls up her feet to the edge of the bed whilst showing me the prize she found.

Nail polish.

Ah. Fair enough.

There’s a first time for everything.

“You know I’ll make a mess out of your feet, right?”

I challenge her with a mischievous grin: while I will take to the bait, I refuse to give her an easy time reeling me in with her little-sister fantasies.

“As long as you know I’ll respond in kind. Set. Su. Ka.”

We burst into laughter at the same time as I start to follow her directions, my resistance shattered. I don’t even want to mess it up anymore - I’d be a super-lame little kid if I still sabotaged her when she appeases me like this by properly calling me by my own name, right?

So now I’m becoming acquainted with the art of painting nails that nobody ever looks at anyways.

Except Nii-san, perhaps. He’d notice. Right?


	9. Growing Up

## 9\. Growing Up

14 October 2000, that same foster home

Clara and Chris are ganging up on me.

It is never a good sign when they are united.

Especially when they know to close the door and guard it.

“What is it?”

I hide my head under my blanket, turning my head away from them.

I don’t want to look at them. Not today. Not even Jelly.

“We want to celebrate your birthday with you, Setsuka.”

Chris’ voice is soothing. Calm. Caring. Charismatic.

“Don’t want to.”

This is where Clara speaks up. She never stays quiet. She cares too much to let Chris do the talking.

“We can’t give you any gifts if you stay inside your room like this, Setsuka.”

See? I called it.

“Don’t want any.”

I grumble. I know I am being childish. But it is only my ninth birthday. I can still get away with this. I hope.

“We know. But we’d like to give something to you anyway, Setsuka.”

Something is brushing over my head. It is a bit hard. But it tickles. I can’t stand it, and try to wave it away, but I just feel my hand swatting against something light and papery.

Okay. I’m curious now. I battle it for a moment, but fine. They aren’t leaving, and I really don’t want to fight with them.

I’d win the fight… but it is not worth the battle.

My hand reaches to the paper that has fallen to the wayside, and I pull it underneath the sheets with me. The bedding doesn’t do much to keep the light out, so I can still see what it says.

Happy Birthday

Oh. A birthday card. There’s some white bunnies on the front. Hand-folded origami. How childish. What a half-baked gift. Such fake parents.

I feel my disappointment mounting, but I’ll open it. Maybe there’s some bills inside.

Dear Setsuka,

I am sorry I can’t be there for you.

But I think of you always.

Love, Cain.

It is as if a bomb explodes in my mind. There is so much happiness in my head all of a sudden, it can only leave through happy, gleeful squealing that I ought to be ashamed of.

Nii-san!

He didn’t forget!

I lift the paper to my nose, hoping to smell Nii-san’s scent.. but even as I do so, I realize I have already forgotten what he smells like. It instantly dampens my happy mood considerably.

“He can’t meet with you yet.”

Clara’s voice sounds surprisingly happy.

Is it because she saw me freaking out underneath the sheets?

Or is it because she wants him out of my life so I’ll forget?

Probably the former. She could just not have given me the card if it was the latter. Okay okay, I’ll hear her out. My head peeks out from underneath the bedding as I turn towards them.

“Why?”

It is a simple question.

One they always dodge.

Without fail.

“Because…” Chris starts speaking, but I notice that Clara is nudging him on the side. He sighs, frowning a bit, then goes silent as Clara comes to sit at my bed. I’d rather he tell me; he tends to be to the point at least.

“You’re nine years old now, Setsuka. And you’ve settled in well with us. So if you want to know, I think you are ready to hear.”

I blink. Really? I can’t help but scoot up, sitting up and peering at Clara’s expression. She’s got a lot of lines on her face, the markings of years gone by. Far more than mom used to have. But she’s wrinkley to the point of graying, at least.

She’d be an amazing grandma, I can’t help but think for those few moments.

Thankfully she continues. My expression probably gave away more than words ever could.

“That morning, your brother found your mother in her bed. She had passed away overnight, as you well know.”

I nod repeatedly, my chin bouncing up and down slightly in light urging of the explanation to move onwards.

“You no doubt know how much he liked your mother. He completely lost it. He went to find your father, who was still asleep in his own room. Distraught as he was, he tried to wake him. Unfortunately.. your father was… not quite awake, let’s say. He said something that truly upset your brother.”

The story is told with a soft, gentle voice. But most of all, I feel Chris’ eyes on me with that same pitying look as the first day I met him.

“Your brother probably didn’t even realize when he did it.. but he lashed out. One punch, and your father fell into the coma that he has as of yet not woken up from. He broke a few of your dad’s ribs afterwards too…”

I feel my breath catching in my throat. I’ve known this for a long time. Or well… suspected it. Why else wouldn’t Nii-chan be with me? Why wouldn’t I hear from him?

Reason always suggested it made no sense for fake-mom and fake-dad to want to separate me from Nii-san if they just wanted to have me. But to think of Nii-san as the person who ruined everything? I can’t. Never!

Tears once again escape my eyes. I haven’t cried much recently - I thought I had outgrown them. But there aren’t enough heart-calluses to stop these tears; I need to cry for Nii-san. I am so sad for him.

Clara’s hand rests on my shoulder, and she pulls me closer into a hug. For once, I let her.

“Cry, child.. it is alright. Cry out those tears.”

Her voice is soothing me, and I do as she suggests. It takes a while before she continues… or rather, it takes a while for my body to stop shaking.

“The law has no option but to consider him a ‘troubled youth’. He is unfit for the system, being a minor. There is no jail.. but he needs treatment. They worry he’ll hurt other people.”

“He won’t.”

My voice is firmer now; I have run out of tears.

“Shhh. The law doesn’t know that. He needs to let go of his anger. Just like you had to let go of your tears just now, you understand?”

She offers me a small smile meant to lift my spirits. It works just a teensy bit.

“If he tries really hard, maybe he’ll overcome his anger some day. Let’s hope for that day to come, okay?”

I nod. I feel myself smiling. Refreshed. As if a weight has disappeared simply by knowing the weight that is on Nii-san’s shoulders.

He carried me on his shoulders. And now he carries our problem.

He’ll make it right.

“Now, shall we go outside to celebrate your birthday? I saw those bunnies on the card… Setsuka, do you like bunnies? We can probably find a white one at the pet store… Jenny is already waiting downstairs.”

Just like that, I am somehow cajoled into celebrating the birthday I had decided to ignore. I’m sorry, Nii-san.


	10. Celebration

## 10\. Celebration

14 October 2000, the training room

I can’t be there for her birthday.

Does she resent me for it?

I want to go, but they won’t let me.

I tried hard, but they aren’t happy yet.

It is just one day…

I sigh. I hope she has received my card, at least.

If it wasn’t for the therapist helping me out, I don’t think I’d have been able to send her even that. The world is full of red tape when you have done what I did.

At least we are getting to exercise a bit. The first time was last week, but I am still just as happy to see this room as back then. It isn’t just a huge lame room meant for kids to run around in or on top of boxes.

No.

It has a ring. An honest-to-god boxing ring.

And punching bags everywhere.

Right now, I feel great. My fists are just lashing out on the punching bag. They always have us do that for the first few minutes - to take the edge off, they say.

Fair is fair, whatever works, works. And work it does.

I catch myself in a rhythm as my fists land time and time again. It is a tune.

Happy birthday. To you. Dear Setsukaaa. Happy Birthday. To youuu.

Somehow, she’s always on my mind. I have started hiding it as of late - I didn’t quite like the way the therapist responded when I asked him about her for the so-manieth-time a month back. I’ll admit it isn’t normal.. but our situation isn’t normal to begin with!

Had I not backed off like that, I think he might not have sent that card for me. At least she knows now that I haven’t forgotten.

I am still a little lost in my own considerations as we get paired off. Being physically fit, I get paired with a bulky boy with a mean look. I heard he used to be a bully. Punched someones teeth out when ‘his’ girl answered the question of someone else. Sigh. Of course.

At least we get a mouth guard. And a coach. So let’s not worry about lasting damage like that.

As I am in my corner, I bounce a bit on my feet as we had been taught last time. I have to keep moving. He grins. His grin is predatory.

He just wants to punch me. To see me buckle.

I recognise that glare. It reminds me of him when I did something wrong.

I move.

I swing.

A miss. He swings back.

I duck and follow up.

A hit. A straight hit.

His chin is heavier than I imagined. Does he have a brain after all?

My wrist hurts, but he’s down.

Once again, that whistle that signifies fault. My fault, no doubt.

I’ve stopped taking that little thing too seriously. Rather, I take the guard out of my mouth and look at his dazed expression.

“I could have killed my father, had I cared to. Choose someone your own size to pick on instead, you waste.”

I spit at his feet for good measure; the exercise had turned it more into slobber than proper spit.

That provoked more whistling. Angry whistling. Oops.

At least I feel better now. As if I can protect you a bit more.

Happy birthday, Setsuka.


	11. Deja Vu

## 11\. Deja Vu

1 January 2001, out on the street

There’s explosions everywhere around me.

It is as if the sky is raining down on me, bathing me in a rain of bright colours and recognizable scent of gunpowder.

One year has ended, and a new one has begun.

I would lie if I said it wasn’t beautiful.

Because it definitely is.

But I am scared. Right now, I’m sitting on Chris’ shoulders.

And I’m not hating it. I can hear his feet breaking and compressing the fresh snow with every step. I can feel him making sure he’s got the right balance.

All while I am holding this little sparkler in my hand. He pointed out several times to be really careful and keep it above his head.

“Not near his face!” Clara shouted once when I nearly messed up when he suddenly started walking; he spooked me with that.

I feel his hands on my legs. They pin me in place. There is no way I can slip.

But the view from here.. I feel as if it is a fake sky.

Honestly, I know what it lacks.

Talking. Banter. Happiness.

Because to me, it should be Nii-san carrying me.

Sure, we tried it last year, before everything happened. And we both ended up falling over because I couldn’t sit still.

But that was everything this is lacking.

It is the motions, but not the essence.

It is the experience, but not the lesson.

It is a new year… without Nii-san.

When my feet suddenly hit the snow, I realize my sparkler had gone out a while ago whilst I was reminiscing. I smile apologetically towards Chris - Clara had gone back inside already. She’s not a fan of this coldness.

“Do you want to come back inside?”

He inquires this in an agreeable manner; he always gives me a choice. He isn’t always happy with my choices, and when I make a one he thinks is bad, he’s less likely to give me a choice I like making later.. but he always offers.

“No, she doesn’t. Come, pipsqueak, let’s go around the block!”

There’s Jenny. The one force in this household I really can’t say no to. Admittedly, she sometimes reminds me of Nii-san, but it is always in a way that makes me happy. Chris just smiles and ends up going inside, warning us both to be careful.

My hand is dragged along, and I find myself laughing as we sprint on the slippery surfaces. She’s letting our impromptu race be an even one; she’s got longer legs so obviously she should easily win this.

When she looses her footing on a slippery ice patch and lands face-first into the snow, I burst into laughter whilst passing her and touching the tree at the street corner. She’s a bit unhappy, but her eyes betray that she’s having fun too.

“Say, Setty..”

She suddenly seems pensive as she looks at me, her hand reaching out to hold my own again when we continue to walk and look at the sky above.

“Is your brother really that amazing?”

“Yes!”

I shouldn’t even have to answer the question - she knows how I think about him. Frankly, whenever we talk about something, Nii-san always pops in here or there. I can’t help it; he’s my brother I shared a good eight years of my life with, right?

“.. so.. why isn’t he here yet?”

I hear her be careful as she says the words, but I come to a stop as I look at her face.

“What do you mean? He’s working hard!”

She frowns. I don’t like her frown.

“I remember the day mom and dad went to pick you up. They talked for a while after you had fallen asleep. I remember hearing.. your brother had a six month therapy to go through.”

Now I am frowning. I feel the wrinkles forming around my eyebrows.

“So what? He’ll come!”

My words are so defensive. Far too defensive. Don’t I trust Nii-san? Or do I feel he needs my protecting?

“Of course he will. I’m sorry.”

She smiles, but it isn’t her bright smile. There’s sadness in there. I think she cares. Or she worries. It is quite like her.

She hates seeing me hurt. Honestly, with her around, I don’t have the chance to feel hurt in peace.

Jenny is a dependable older sister.

But right now.. she feels everything but dependable.

We continue walking in silence, and I feel her hand tightly gripping mine as we look upwards.

Like I used to with Nii-san.

Just like then, there are these gorgeous flowers of fire that are blooming in the sky.. yet this time, all I see is the wilting as they fizzle out into the dark void of oblivion.


	12. Questions

## 12\. Questions

19 February 2001, in the kitchen

“Where is Nii-san?”

I finally popped the question. That talk with Jenny has been bugging me in the back of my mind for weeks now.

“Why is Nii-san not here?”

I stare angrily at Clara; Chris is getting the groceries together with Jenny and I always felt she is the one to ask. Chris is an honest man.. but he is also stubborn if he doesn’t want to tell something. Clara is the easier one; she gets more frustrated, she’ll just blurt something out that is somewhat close to the truth… sometimes.

But that’s better than no answer. And asking Chris first.. well, he’d tell her and she’d have an answer all ready for me.

Clara is frowning, but she stays silent. She is still folding those clean clothes with practiced motions.

“Come on, tell me. I can’t even talk to him on the phone. This isn’t fair!”

I whine a bit, stamping my foot angrily on the floor as if to make a point, my eyes never leaving hers. Damn, I’m angry.

I’ll have answers this time.

“He can’t come. He’s very busy.”

That sounds like such a lie. I scowl. I push the stack of clean clothes onto the ground. She’s angry now. Angry that I acted up.

I stare back. What are you going to do about it? I’ll push it over a second time if you don’t answer me. My eyes communicate that. I am not giving up. Not this time!

But she just stays silent, and recollects those clothes. No answer?

Screw you, fake-mom. I push the box of tissues off the table this time. Still, I stare at her.

No response. Fine. Her glass of tea is n…

Like a viper, her hand grabs my wrist as I swipe at it, capturing me before I accomplish my aim.

“QUIT IT, SETSUKA.”

She raised her voice. I cower a bit from the sudden eruption - she never raises her voice.

“Then let me SEE HIM!”

I yell back at her. My eyes are filling up with tears again. Damn it, I need to be strong. Not to be a crybaby.

“WHY DO YOU THINK HE EVEN WANTS TO SEE YOU!?”

That response I never expected… and I go silent.

I want to retort. Somehow.

Instead, I yank my hand free, and rush up the stairs to my room. Tears are running from my eyes. There is no stopping them.

Why, Nii-san? Why?!


	13. The Roadblock

## 13\. The Roadblock

8 March 2001, drama class

It is strange.

“Despite the darkness of the night, there is always light.”

I have felt it strange for a very long time.

“Wandering alone is not the way, allow me to guide you.”

But it is only as I practice my lines that I’m finding myself with the calmness to really think about it.

So many months. Yet I haven’t even spoken to her on the phone.

“Especially when you are hurt, you need to rely on others.”

That is not sensible, right?

“I may be a man of the cloth, but I wasn’t always one.”

We are siblings. We’re both hurting. Yet we are kept apart like a pair of rabid hounds who would tear eachother apart.

“The emotions and frustrations of youth, of tenderness and unfaithfulness… I am well aware of them.”

It is like this scene. Of the young pastor and the poor lady in emotional distress. The scene hints towards far more than we are being told.

“So please, let me support you.”

And like the scene… I don’t think I am being told everything.

I am sure of it. I drop the script down next to me, and leave the room to go find my therapist, Marc. The teacher notices, but doesn’t say anything; we are a class of troublemakers, and he knows well that none of us really care or gain anything from detention. In a way… his class is our detention.

As I wander through the hallways, my mind keeps on churning. How do I confront the man? What is it I don’t know? Is it.. what I fear the most?

I do owe her an apology. Or an explanation. No. Both. But maybe she needs to be older, first? No. Yes. Well.. it does not really matter, does it? My thoughts just race, and I feel my heartbeat quickening. But unlike the anger that typically pumps my blood through my veins, I find that this time it is a chilling fear that envelopes my entire being.

What if she blames me? What if she hates me for taking dad away? That makes the most sense, right?

Not a moment too soon, I find that Marc is in his little office. Thank god. I don’t want to play hide-and-seek with that man, not with my mind and heart enveloped in such a fierce storm of negativity.

“Oh, Cain. We didn’t have an appointment, did we?” He calls out warmly as he sees me outside his door.

“No.”

My response is simple, but the man is good at what he does. He knows I’m not in the mood for his bullshitting.

“So what can I do for you?”

I meet his eyes whilst consciously unclenching my fist. He has to see that I am improving. Getting better.

“You can tell me the truth.”

Because if I don’t… he won’t tell me.

He pauses for a moment, smiling that proper and calming smile of his as his hand extends to the chair opposite his own.

“I have never lied to you.”

“You have not told me everything, either.”

I counter his bullshit instantly.

He closes the door to his office and turns back, looking pained.

“Only because you aren’t ready.”

“Try me.”

Despite my bluster, I inwardly prepare for the worst.


	14. Impossible

## 14\. Impossible

7 April 2001, out on the street

I wonder if they have realized yet.

It doesn’t matter.

I’ve got my backpack. Cake. A map. Sweets. Nii-san’s card.

As I hop out of the bus, I know I haven’t forgotten anything. I can back out, but I won’t. Because I need to know.

“Hey.”

I need to see him. I need him to tell me.

“Hey, you. Kiddo!”

Whoops. The driver saw me as I snuck out. Damn beardo! Time to run!

The small plaza in front of the railway station is not very large, but it still takes me a small eternity to find my way into the nearby neighborhood. Not because I don’t know where it is, but because a yelling adult gets people attention. One beard yelling at me becomes a beard and a handbag and a mailman and a stupid-looking man dressed like a frog.

Leave me alone!

Little alleys. Bushes. Fences with holes in them. That bus driver had to give up at the bushes, nevermind the rest which weren’t anywhere near as motivated.

Nobody needs to know am going to the big city. They’ll get in the way again! I don’t know how much time has passed by the time I feel safe. There’s a lot of branches on this tree, and climbing up it isn’t too difficult; Jenny would probably laugh at me.

I didn’t climb much higher than the slide at our local playground. The Nii-san I knew would just smile and support me, never mentioned the other dozen branches above me.

Regretfully, I look around as my jaw go through the motions of eating. This unexpected affair has already cost me the lunch I prepared for traveling. The cake was quite good… but I haven’t even left town yet! So stupid!

Should I go back and pretend I just went out to play?

Hmm.

No.

Fake-mom and fake-dad are not idiots. I’ll just have to deal with it.

If I fail today, I’ll try again tomorrow. And I’ll make sure to bring twice as much lunch as today. I smile at the thought; fake-mom is really fond of her cake by her tea. That serves you right!

Carefully, I climb back down the tree, and make my way back to the station. Wherever possible, I peek around the corners, because I would feel stupid just getting caught again. Jeffrey especially would recognise me in a heartbeat.

Finally, I am into the station.

Look at me, I’m an adult and I belong here.

Look at me, I’m looking at this big board with departure times that is a head or three bigger than I am.

What are you looking at? Never seen someone read departure times before?

I end up cheating. Someone mentions having to catch the train to the city, and that helps me find the one I need. Convenience trumps my sign-reading pride in this case.

After I climb into the train, I soon find a neat compartment with nobody in it. Good. I don’t want any questions anyways. I look out of the window. Those are some dark skies out there. Can you even call those clouds still?

My legs swing impatiently underneath the seat. Come on. I am already delated. Let’s just go with the electrical choo-choo and find Nii-san so he can tell me why. Let’s go go go go!

But instead, all I hear is the casual chattering of people walking by the train. Entering the train and finding seats. Passing by my little room while I stare outside and try to belong.

The sudden knocking on the glass leading to my compartment startles me to the point of me nearly negating the gravity Nii-san told me about with my buttocks alone.

I look.

Poopieface Jeffrey. Damn it. Why him?

He opens the door.

“We meet again, Setsuka.”

His voice sounds tired as he greets me. He has a kind older-brother type of face, but right now, I can only see the face that belongs with that silly hat of his. A serious one.

Stupid hat, serious face. What’s the logic behind that anyway?

“Go away. Did they call you?”

I ask, and he answers. Not through his voice, but with a nod as he sits down opposite me. Dear god, not the talk again. He tried that twice before after he realized the fake ones weren’t getting anywhere with their talks.

“You can’t keep doing this, Setsuka.”

I stare outside again, intent on ignoring him.

“Your foster parents are good people. You shouldn’t cause trouble for them like this. They always told me how well your parents raised you. Jenny used to always cause trouble for them, and they were really happy to not go through that again with you.”

I sigh. I look back. I sigh again. I stare at him.

He doesn’t get it.

Fine, I’ll explain.

“If you want me to feel guilty, make me feel guilty after I actually make it out of town. There’s not much to feel guilty about right now, is there?”

Okay. I was a bit too much of a wise-ass just now, but for whatever reason he ends up laughing. I always knew bobbies are crazy. It explains the hat.

“This train isn’t leaving with you on it, love. Or do you think you can give me the run-around for five minutes inside this room? Because that is when the train departs.”

Hurriedly, I glance towards the door. Then to the law personified, with his long spindly arms and legs that probably aren’t too different.

I feel like crying again. This is another failure, isn’t it?

“Okay. I’ll come.”

I force the tears back down. I’m not going to be snottering.

He smiles, and holds out his hand. “Okay. If you want, we’ll just talk for a while before I call your pa.. foster parents, okay?”

Knowing it to be inevitable, I put my hand in his, and we start to walk out of the compartment. There are some other passengers here, people who are looking with those curious and annoyed and pitying eyes.

Jenny at least leaves me in my dignity, not forcing the walk of shame on me. I never realized quite how much until now.. but she really understands a lot of things.

Of course, poopieface Jeffrey is different. Two weeks ago, he talked me out of the computer room in the library when I was trying to find Nii-san’s address.

I ended up running away from him when someone spoke to him. He yelled. I think he cussed, even. But twenty minutes later, he was sweaty and frustrated and holding my hand, and then I had no more choice to go home.

So now he clearly won’t let me go. I think he’d cuff me, but my hands are too small for those criminal-cuffs of his. I’d just slip out again.

A deep sigh escapes me. I wish he was that much of an idiot. But he isn’t.

After we make it out of the train, he guides me to one of the waiting benches and we sit down upon it. It is a bit out of the way - people have no reason to be here given the fact the train is about to leave.

At least his hand isn’t sweaty this time. It is just… warm.

“So, am I anywhere close if I guess that you are looking for your brother again?”

I peer back at him, my chin bobbing up and down ever so slightly, admitting to the crime.

“You know you can’t see him right now, right? He’s having therapy to deal with his outbursts.”

“I don’t care. I could go to school from waking till sleeping, and I would still have time to talk to him simply because I want to talk to him.”

He smiles, but it is one of those meaningless smiles that lack the light in the eyes.

“He has to finish his therapy, though.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to see him.”

“So then you finally figured out where he lives? That’s what you were doing last time, if I recall.”

My face goes red, annoyed by having my shortcomings pointed out to him by one with as ridiculous a hat as his.

“Someone would know. God would guide me.”

He sighs out of frustration. Despite having the face for it, he isn’t the Nii-san type. He looks at me like I am a Martian, as if I don’t have any common sense.

“This needs to stop, Setsuka. Please. You are worrying a lot of people.”

“And Nii-san is worrying me! His card says he thinks of me, but he doesn’t! Why wouldn’t he call? Why wouldn’t he see me?”

I exclaim at him, frustrated at being handled like a fragile little chick! The anger and hopelessness are making my tears appear again. I’m such a hopeless little kid sometimes. I hate it.

“If he’s upset with me, I want him to tell me! Not you. Not Clara. Not Chris. Not Jenny. Just him!”

Despite my insistence on not doing so, I end up bawling on the chest of a bobby. I’m so very glad Nii-san can’t see me right now - he would really want to get rid of me if he saw this, wouldn’t he?


	15. Cloud Eight

## 15\. Cloud Eight

17 April 2001, at the Institute

The alarm is ringing, but I wake up with a smile.

Better said, I wake up with a smile still.

I shouldn’t, because I am still failing as a brother.

But what Marc told me is so much better than what I anticipated when I entered that room back then.

When you expect to die, but you only lose an arm, you are happy to have lost that arm to save your life.

It is that sort of smile; I feel just so calm inside. It seems that therapist does know what he is talking about to some degree.

There is still life, according to him. Setsuka doesn’t hate me; it is her foster parents that dislike me.

As much as I want to hate them, I feel that just maybe they are a better place for Setsuka to be than I’ve been thinking. The prideful argument would be that my presence is what is best for her, but I have ruined her life just as much as he has.

The smile finally disappears off my features. To compare myself with him… the apple does not fall far from the tree, does it?

It is time to ’fess up.

I am pathetic. A toxic existence. Even to Setsuka.

And that is why I will fight.

I will become a better person. Someone she can be proud of.

I will finish my therapy.

And I will meet her again.

As if to reinforce my thoughts with actions, I almost literally jump up out of bed in a manner not any inferior to a random cartoon character. From flat to standing in one second flat.

No more laziness. I owe that girl so much.

But… shower first, then breakfast. Or my fighting coach is going to chew me out for passing out again…

I don’t need anymore ‘fails’ added after my name.

From now on, I will ‘pass’. And I will graduate.

Wait for me, Setsuka. One last time. Please.


	16. Fluffy Jail

## 16\. Fluffy Jail

4 May 2001, after school

“When have you pushed someone too far?”

Had you asked me a week ago, I would not have been able to answer in any serious form.

But right now I can. From my soft, springy bed. With all the sheets. And Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Parrot and Mrs. Piggy and all the other stuffed toys they’ve tried placating me with before today.

It is the shiny new lock in my door. And it is currently locked.

Until a few days ago, there were no locks on any doors. Clara and Chris decided that my trips to find Nii-san had to come to an end, so they decided to put a lock there.

And then they had the bright idea to check their spare keys. Well.. the one for the backdoor was missing. So with that came an all-round replacement of all locks in the house.

I can only conclude they are officially tired of my shit.

Grounded, that is the word they use. I call it ‘fluffy jail’.

I get to come out for school, where I get brought and picked up under extra supervision. I get to eat downstairs with the rest of this ‘family’. Oh, and toilet visits, most obviously.

And when I’m nice, they let me watch TV with them in the evenings, but I don’t quite feel like being familial with them after having been stuck inside fluffy jail for the rest of the day. So I only end up with more time in fluffy jail.

OK OK, I exaggerate. I’ll admit as much. Fluffy jail makes my imagination go a bit wild at times. In fact, they let me out of the room most of the day. But that bunch of paranoid fakers is actually locking up all the doors so I don’t sneak out.

I’m definitely not nominating them as foster parents of the year.

I groan audibly as the boredom assaults me. There’s homework, but when you are locked in jail, homework isn’t exactly on the list. There is the window, but being two floors up has convinced me that heights are most likely a healthy thing to fear.

Besides, last summer was sweltering. If the temperature rises in the next few months along with the arrival of summer, then this room is going to be stuffy. Having the ability to open my window… I think I don’t want to lose that bit of freedom by trying to challenge whatever fears I possess in regards to the ground down there.

The door unlocks, and before I quite realize, it is already open and Jenny comes in.

“I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, Jenny, but make sure you lock our little escape artist back up once you two are done hanging out, okay?”

Chris is joking about the manner in a lighthearted manner, but I can only stare at him in an unimpressed manner. He shrugs and turns to leave, no doubt a bit disappointed his joke didn’t get a smile out of me.

Meanwhile, Jenny is all over me.

Literally. I am being assaulted by a hand shaped like a fist that is applied in the form of a noogie on top of my head.

“Pipsqueak. Seriously. Why the hell don’t you just promise? This place turned into Alcatraz because of you?!”

I do my best to dodge, but she’s still got those long arms and few more years on me. At least she ends up giving up and sitting on my bed with me.

“I tried, didn’t I?”

“Did you think they don’t smell your bullshit from a mile away?” she responds, being a bit more serious than I expected. “I’m sorry Setty, but I wasn’t quite the model pipsqueak myself. Nowadays they seem to sense whenever I’m honest.”

She laughs about it easily now, but of course, she is still in a position to leave the house whenever she wants to. I try to give her my best angry glare, but it is no better than throwing a snowballs into a volcano: utterly ineffective.

“Just be honest with them. Stop your silly shenanigans and they’ll let you out and about as you used to.”

“Do I get a phone call?”

That hand is back, noogie-ing it up once more. “You little..!” she laughs out as she teases me.

“I meant, with Nii-san. I don’t believe he has forgotten me. Or does not want to talk to me!”

My voice sounds far more desperate than I’d like. Maybe he’s got a new sister. I know I’ve got a new older sister, so… No, I can’t think that way.

Jenny leans back, folding her arms over one another as her face takes on that sisterly, sympathetic touch.

“I doubt it. If it was that easy to get a phonecall going and stop your silly ass from running to the nearest bus station, don’t you think mom and dad would have already done so? It has to be out of their reach.”

I topple backwards. My head hits my pillow only a little; I mostly end up leaning against Jenny who wraps her arms around me in a comforting manner.

It frankly isn’t a very comfortable position to be in, but I don’t want to chase her away. I hear puberty sucks, and she doesn’t need me disliking to snuggle up with her simply because her breasts are doing such a good job filling out.

Ugh, I hope I never get breasts. They seem annoying.

Does Nii-san like girls with breasts? Ugh. I hope not. If he does, I’ll just consider myself lucky that Jellybelly is my sister, and not his!

“What are you thinking about, Setty?”

“That it must suck to have breasts like yours, Jellybelly.”

“It does. And your turn will come.”

She just laughs it off, and I find that comforting as I jokingly reply with a “Neverrrr.” of my own.

A silence falls. It lasts a while, but then she speaks up.

“Serious question. If your Nii-san says he hates you, will you stop your silliness?”

I tilt my head backwards, glancing up to look at her through my bangs. “I suppose. I really hope he doesn’t though.” I mumble.

I don’t want to give up. I want my Nii-san back. But if he really is done with me…

“Okay. Fine then. I trust you.” Her grip around my tightens lovingly, pushing the air out of my lungs a bit. “You know I’m on your side, right?”

I hesitate slightly before nodding. Where is she going with this?

“I’ll prove that I can be as good a sister to you as your Cain is a brother.”


	17. Realization

## 17\. Realization

4 May 2001, after dinner

I am sorry, mom. But I have to.

The door behind me closes. I feel a pang of guilt as I turn the key and lock the door once more. It isn’t fair.

Dad, I know this will hurt you.

My hands run through my hair and free it from the constraints of the hairtie as I walk downstairs. A bit of help from my hands and all the hairs are mostly free and untangled once more.

I know I promised you both.

In full view of those two, who are watching TV, I go about putting my hair back in the hairtie. I rarely leave it unbound; it is just so much of a bother. And the braid of yesteryear is unacceptable; it looks so childish. Setty probably couldn’t trust in me if I dressed like someone her own age.

I sigh deeply, and it gets Chris’ attention. Dangit Jenny, focus!

“What’s up, love?”

A smile is forced up to my lips, trying to make light of the situation and not tip off the powers that be too much regarding my inner thoughts.

“Oh. I’m just a bit upset. This is worse than the house arrest you gave me.”

He frowns as he nods, his hand patting the free spot on the couch besides him. I’m not in much of a mood to watch TV with them though, so I just sorta-sit on the armrest. Call it a concession.

“You never ran away. You’d come back with filled pockets. It was a different problem with a different solution.”

I forcefully repress another sigh. Of course. I know it was like that, and that Setsu has her own brand of youthful rebellion that is nothing like my own.

But she’s still my little sister. If I look out for her well enough, maybe some day, she’ll actually think of me that way.

“She said she’d stop running away if she just got to talk to him once. Can’t you make it happen..?”

One final time. One final shot. Let’s try to not break that promise. Unfortunately, Chris shakes his head.

“And do you know what will come out of that phone call? Those two siblings working hand in hand to stage a meeting. That is what. There is a reason that boy is inside that institution, Jenny.”

My teeth gnash over eachother as I move to stand up. “It sucks.” I declare as I move to the hallway to get my jacket. I think I’ll go for a walk. I don’t have the sort of casual cool to pull it off right in front of them, I really don’t.

The thought of them catching me red-handed, unlikely as it is.. bah! I don’t want to risk it, not one bit. That’s the worst of the worst!

I better wait for another day; there is no rush…

“I’ll be back in thirty. Going for a walk.” I call out to a pair assenting voices. Their attention is already being gobbled back up by the telly again.

As I close the door behind me, I realize that the capriciousness of Spring is still in effect. It is raining? Bah. Now I need to go back inside to get an umbrella. Or skip this walk. I can vent to the walls in my room too, right?

The new locks unlock easily as I come back in. There is no squeak. That got fixed with all the new locks they put in to deter Setty. The irony is that the missing spare key that caused all this was in my hands. I knew where they kept it and got lax about putting it back at some point. I might admit to borrowing it some day.. but then I’ll have to be the one to face the music.

I’d be shooting myself in the foot. They gave me a key when I asked this time because I’ve been becoming so much more responsible. The irony here is honestly not lost on me.

As I am about to take my jacket off, I overhear something.

“Did you have to lie? You know kids eventually catch on to those, and from then on it is a slippery slope with regards of the truth.”

Okay, mom..? That’s an interesting topic. I stop moving, focusing my ears to the best of my abilities to try and hear through the noise of the telly.

“It is just a bit of misrepresentation, not a lie. He is inside an institution for anger management. That is a fact.”

“But even his therapist has been calling us to try and make those two meet. Apparently the boy has been doing really well and a carrot would help keep him motivated.”

“Are you the one reconsidering? It was you who convinced me we should keep those two from meeting to begin with!”

“And I was right! I still am, most likely! Setsuka’s fixation on him just isn’t healthy. Even if he doesn’t end up abusing her in some fit of rage, it doesn’t take a genius to see that girl needs a normal family environment. Jenny is a great sister to her, and they’ve been bonding healthily, haven’t they?”

I can barely hear Chris grumbling, but mom just keeps talking.

“We just need to keep them separated. Setsuka will forget about wanting to see him, and who knows, by the time she’s an adult she may not even be interested anymore in meeting that destructive older brother of hers.”

Fat chance, I find myself mumbling under my breath. Thankfully, the telly and wall form an effective sound barrier that makes my mumbling go unnoticed.

Their conversation carries on, but I choose a random umbrella from the collection and sneak out of the door to start my walk proper. I’ll give myself away to those two if I stay any longer.

The downpour has gotten heavier.

I can’t believe I was defending them!

All of a sudden, I feel a whole lot less guilty about breaking that promise I made back then.


	18. Recidivism

## 18\. Recidivism

7 May 2001, after school

Jenny is sitting opposite me, and she seems a bit absent.

She’s been like that since a few days ago when she said she wanted to prove herself to me. I’m not sure why; do siblings need to prove themselves to eachother?

If that is so, it is silly.

I kind of want to ask her what is going on. But her expression betrays that she isn’t quite ready to share, and thus I find my eyes drawn to the outside, where the first traces of dusk are already setting in. Then I glance back towards Jenny, or more accurately, to mom’s purse.

Why did she bring that thing?

“I owe you an apology, Setty.”

Huh?

“I overheard mom and dad talk the other night, after I left your room. And what they..”

“You spied on them??”

My excited voice is hushed, as if they’d hear through the wall. She is avoiding my eyes - the excitement in them is probably too much to bear.

Well, too bad. It isn’t like there is a lot of new entertainment in fluffy jail, and this is the juiciest bit of gossip she’s brought me all week!

“No! … Well, not really. Eavesdropped, maybe. And not intentionally!”

She is getting a bit defensive, I notice, and cannot help but grin as I make fun of her flustered expression in my mind. She is really fond of those two fake parents, I know that much.

“Oi pipsqueak, get that smile off your face unless you want me to stop talking.”

I motion with a zipper over my mouth, but it remains in its amused expression. Some things simply cannot be helped.

Jenny just sighs dejectedly, oddly enough not willing to get into a playful argument about me respecting her older sister. How unlike her. Finally though, she takes a deep breath and stares at me as if she’s going to tickle me.

“Mom and dad.. they are the ones who won’t let you talk to your brother. I heard them talking about it.”

What? My brain takes a second to catch up.

“What?”

I can’t quite say why, but it feels as if the wind is knocked out of me. That makes no sense! Weren’t they thinking of having him here too?

“How do you mean, they don’t want me to talk to him?”

My nails are digging into my hand as I squeeze it, so instead I find Mr. Parrot and strangle the ever-living soul out of him. For stress relief, of course. It wouldn’t be fair to involve Mrs. Piggy and Mr. Rabbit is just too cute to suffer like that.

“They… ugh. I don’t know. I can’t explain, okay? The bit I heard made no sense to me.”

Jenny seems exasperated, and I think I understand. She feels betrayed too. On my behalf. I think so, anyway.

‘When you feel hurt, just come for a hug.’

She said that once. And I figure she might just benefit herself. So I toss the dead bird formerly known as Mr. Parrot aside and go to give her a hug. She isn’t as easygoing as usual, but the hug soon becomes mutual, and I like to think we both feel a bit better.

It is only when we hear the church bells ringing in the distance that she pushes me away a bit, speaking up once more.

“Setty, whatever you do, you can’t tell mom and dad that I’m helping you, okay? I swear I’d end up in as much house arrest as you. I’d hate to end up with house arrest on my birthday tomorrow…”

As she says these words, her finger reaches out and shushes me pre-emptively with a light touch on my lips. Today is a day full of surprises: it is her birthday? Why didn’t I know?! Wait, I did… she celebrated hers shortly after I first came here, didn’t she?

My thoughts are interrupted by her voice, which is low and on the edge of whispering, yet no less capable of grabbing my attention. “I stole… well, borrowed her bag. She wasn’t paying attention to it with that one comedian being on the telly again.”

Before I can question why she’d go so far as to do that, she lifts mom’s address book out of it.. and the wireless phone from the kitchen downstairs. “What do you..” I start to speak, but she hushes me.

She opens the little notebook, and searches through it for a few moments, then pointing out a particular line in the little book.

“Dial that. It’s the number of Cain’s therapist.”

I must have given her a stupified expression, because she gives me a quirky smile.

“Silly girl, go and dial already! The eight o’clock news only lasts so long. Once mom gets tired of it, she might come looking for her bag… wait, I can just write the number down somewhere. And sneak it back downstairs now. But if she finds out you are calling him, we’re toast. Understand?”

Her eyes stare at me insistently as she holds the phone out to me, and it is with shaking hands that I accept it from her.

One step closer to speaking Nii-san..!


	19. Rigged

## 19\. Rigged

7 May 2001, an extra bout of therapy

That annoying therapist. Things are never good enough for him.

You outdo your group in ‘fail’ marks, and he complains.

You outdo your group nearly overnight with almost pure ‘pass’ marks, and he still complains.

Still, I have little choice but to take a deep breath as I follow him for a bit more therapy and ‘evaluation’, whatever the latter might be. I was about to go watch a movie with the rest of the group, but it looks as if missing the first thirty minutes is going to be out of my reach.

That is the unfortunate part of living in an institution for problem kids like me. I study here. I exercise here. I eat here. I sleep here. And of course, my therapy is here, too.

“I’m sorry for calling you out like this, Cain. I had some work to get done, and the overtime is always nice, if you know what I mean.”

Marc extends his hand to his office whilst laughing cheesily. I offer a small smile, nodding politely whilst moving to the guest seat.

“I’ll get us both a drink. Tea still fine?”

I nod at him with a forced grin.

“As long as I’m not going to get yelled at for doing well.”

My words are slightly more rude than I intended them to be, but you try being yanked from the movie you had been wanting to see all week!

“.. haha, fine. I promise. OK, I’ll be back shortly.”

And off he goes to find either the canteen or the kitchen; why he doesn’t just use the machine at the end of the hallway is beyond me. Oh, maybe he’s getting me that slice of cake other graduates have mentioned in the past. No doubt it is a carrot for further good behaviour.

My mind drifts again as I wait. There is just the clicking of the clock.

The Terminator of all things, how cool is that?! The last time it was on was nearly a year ago, and listening to the guys back then rave about it drove me nuts. I wasn’t in much of a mood to socialize back then. Admittedly, the others weren’t much in a mood to invite me because of that, either.

That adjusted a bit as of late. Not yelling at people helps. No longer beating them up as much as I can get away with during PE class is also something that helps us get along. In the end, we’re all quite similar, so we know when to forgive and wh…

My thoughts have taken me deep enough to not notice that the phone has been ringing right in front of me. Damn geezer. Can’t he come back to shut that thing up?

It rings once more. RRRRRRRRRIIIIiiiiiiiiii~ ~~iiiiinggggg~~ ~!

Whomever it is must be desperate. After six rings, it should be obvious there’s nobody in the building, right?

Maybe I should answer and take a note. Or just stall them until he comes back.

But what if that gets me in trouble?

RRRRRRRRRIIIIiiiiiiiiii~ ~~iiiiinggggg~~ ~!

Oh, screw it. I’ll go deaf if I don’t answer it.

I answer it, knowing it to be a mistake.

“This is Cain. Marc is currently not here. Please wait a while or try ag…”

“NIIIIIIII-SAN~~!”

The excited yell nearly blasts out my eardrum. Good gr… wait, was that Setsuka?

“.. Setsuka? Really?” My voice is shaking a little - that is weird.

“ARE YOU OKAY? YOU SOUND A BIT ILL. I’VE BEEN DYING TO TALK TO YOU. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? I DID NOT WAKE YOU UP, DID I?”

The more she rambles on, the more I feel myself grinning. She always babbles like that when she’s excited.

“No no. I’m fine. Great even, hearing you. Just really surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to call right now.”

How do I manage to sound this calm? I don’t know. She’s not blaming me for anything, I think. She sounds too excited.

“I WASN’T EXPECTING TO HEAR YOU EITHER RIGHT NOW! I WAS GOING TO BEG YOUR THI.. THEPA… THERAPATEACHER TO LET ME TALK TO YOU! I HAVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH.”

Oh, right. Marc… I find myself standing up without a second thought, stretching the cord of the handset to its fullest limit as I close the door and slip the lock in place.

It’s been one whole year. Talking with her is worth any punishment I’d get for this!

“I’ve missed you too. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you. Was it very hard for you?” My voice lowers a bit, trying to elude being overheard in case that sneaky therapist returns.

“NUH… nuh uh. Oh, right.”

Her voice lowers considerably in volume, approaching the ‘conspirational whisper’ level. Judging by her response, she probably got prodded by someone to lower her voice.

Wait..! Does she even have permission to call me? They didn’t want us to talk, right…?

Meanwhile, she’s been babbling. Dear god, what did I miss?!

“.. er name is Jenny. She’s the best and coolest sister I could have. She snuck me the phone and number so I could call!”

Ah. The sister. She’s got one of those now, doesn’t she? It doesn’t matter. She called me! There’s no beating blood and birth!

“I am glad she did. Make sure you thank her properly, okay?”

“Oh I will. It’s her birthday tomorrow. I’ll think of something to give. HmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmm…..”

A smile slips onto my expression as she thinks out loud. What was a years worth of nervousness about her response has now turned into the most comfortable feeling.

“Give her one of your drawings. She’ll like it, I am sure.”

I feel like I sound a bit cheesy - does she still draw as much as she used to? One year is like a life time…

“Oh. I can. Good idea, nii-san! I’ll make one for you too. A late birthday gift! And maybe another one for Christmas, too!”

Unable to help myself, I burst out in laughter. I missed her birthday. Did she get my card, even?

“Did you get my card?”

“Mhmm. I did. I was so happy! Those bunnies were nice! I thought I might never see you again because you wouldn’t come by or call!”

“Of course I’ll come see you. Once I finish my therapy, I’ll come visit you. Maybe live with you, if they’ll let me.”

A part inside of me is already pondering what I ought to do if they don’t let me. There is no way I can let them separate us again.

Wait, we’re not really re-united to begin with. Damn it, now I’m getting angry again.

“Okay. How about you, Nii-san? Are your grades good? Mine are. I wanted to be as smar———————————”

I blink once before I realize I’m listening to the bleeping of an ended call. What? No no no. I stare at the phone in utter panic. She’s gone again. No no no no no NO NO!

I’ll call her back! .. or not, I don’t have her number. DAMN IT.

Suddenly, it strikes me that she might call back, and with the fury of a thousand suns I smack the receiver back onto its base.

Please, Setsuka, call back.

I stare at that telephone. Why does it feel like ants are crawling over my skin? I’m itchy. So damn itchy.

Call me back. Please! God, I beg you…

Time passes, but no returned call. CRAP.

My mind cannot help but wander. She’s still fine, right? Or is she getting a beating? She didn’t sound afraid.. but maybe I just didn’t hear it…!

Come on, Setsuka… call me!

Then… knocking.

“Mr. Heel, if you are finally done talking with your sister, would you unlock the door please?”

GOD-$@#$@#$-DAMNIT!


	20. Busted

## 20\. Busted

8 May 2001, more ‘family’ time

I didn’t get punished.

Actually, that’s not true.

Fact is, they couldn’t punish me any more than they already have.

It was just another guilt trip.

Don’t I respect them? Well, duh. Liars.

Don’t I want to leave my room? Well, DUH. Liars.

Don’t I want to go out with Jenny and them to celebrate her birthday? To have cake? Well… DUHHHHH.

I don’t think I could be an actress if I grow up. But I threw a hissy fit: I hit my face under my pillow and just let them yell at me till they left.

I’d face the music, usually. I really wanted to this time.

But they misunderstood something, and I need to use that.

If I fight with them, they’ll worm the truth out. Stupid lying fake lie detectors!

Those stupid fakers think I snuck the phone to my bedroom with me after dinner. Jenny managed to slip out and put the bag back just in time, and no matter what, I can’t betray her. It’s a vow of silence. She, who gave me the best gift ever, is worth all the blame!

My face is still underneath the pillow for no reason other than me being afraid they’ll come back in and see the grin on my face.

Ahhh~~~! He’s doing alright. And he really wants to see me again. I’m so happy he doesn’t hate me. So so happy!

I must have sounded like an idiot to him, right? Dear god. I just rambled on. I barely even listened to anything he said.

And then that phone cut off. Stupid fakers!

I guess they realized I was on the phone, and just pulled the plug. Damnit. Why wasn’t I more quiet from the very start?!

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid!!

My fists land on the bed besides me a couple of times to emphasize the words I am thinking.

Okay. Okay. Let’s stop being stupid.

I am Cain. Or maybe Jenny. Jenny is better at this sneaky stuff. Yes. I’m Jenny.

Now what do I do?

Hmmmm…

Wait. Wait a second.

Why?

Why do the fakers not like Nii-san?

That’s the problem, right? It isn’t Cain. It probably never was Cain, come to think of it. Well.. dUUUHHH. Nii-san wouldn’t hurt anyone. Why did I never question that before?

Geez. I really am stupid. He’d just smile at me and say it is okay.. but it isn’t!

Jellybelly said something too, didn’t she? Something about not getting what bugged fake-mom and fake-dad anymore. YES, I AM NOT CALLING YOU CHRIS ANYMORE. YOU STUPID TRAITOR OF ALL THINGS HONEST AND FAIR.

I scream loudly to release my frustration.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~~~~~eeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

That gets me an angry yell from downstairs to be silent.

Fine, I’ll be silent. I’m done venting anyway! So hah!

I get up from bed and walk to the little table I’ve got in the corner, feeling more determined than ever. On it are all the materials I need right now.

Setsuka, you have to face it: there are more important things to work on right now than to worry endlessly about Nii-san. He said he is doing okay.

Right now I need to not make him worry about that stupid little sister of his. What if he meets Jenny and the first thing she asks him is whether he was ever taught to give birthday gifts, or whether everyone from our family is as rude as me?

That would be so embarrassing! No no no!

I’ll make her gift so amazing she’ll brag to him about it.

…

Doesn’t that mean I need to make his late birthday gift just a bit better than hers? Hmmmm.

I’ll have to think for a while on where to hide it.

I don’t want her to be envious of Nii-san’s birthday gift.

Why is giving gifts so difficult?!


	21. Hopping Mad

## 21\. Hopping Mad

15 June 2001, supervising the squirt

This reminds me of one of those schoolyard games I used to do back in primary school. Hoppity Scotch, I think?

Right leg. Hop. Left Leg. Hop. Legs spread. Hop. Left leg. Hop. Left leg. Hop. Right leg. Hop. Spread.

I’m ashamed to say I am glad my girl friends can’t see me doing this, even though I have to admit it is fun. I could be like any older sister taking her younger sister to the library, harmoniously holding hands and trying to talk like adults to appear responsible.

But instead we’re taking up the sidewalk. Jumping in sync. At first she’d yell it out, but we’ve stopped doing that because she said siblings need to understand eachother without talking.

She’s got some strange ideas. But I like them.

Well.. most of them. Hop. Hop. Jump.

“Jeeellyyyyyyyybeeeellyyyy! That’s wrong! Aren’t you paying attention? It was the left leg next!”

I smile apologetically at her admonishing outburst, and we resume our hopping about after a moments worth of internal contemplation about our mutual synchronization.

“Setty… can you… tell me… why the… frogs?”

There, I asked her, my feet landing on the pavement with every pause so my teeth don’t clatter uselessly from the shocks.

“Why..? Didn’t you like them? They can jump and all. Mommy frog, daddy frog, and all the children…”

Is she playing dumb? Or is she playing coy? I can’t quite tell. Of course I like them… but it is just so weird a thing to give someone! If it wasn’t her gift, I’d be outright upset!

“I do! … You colored… them all… very nicely…. Especially… the kids, … they were … like … cutesy rainbows!”

Her heart had been into making them, so there is no way I can’t treasure them. And then the way she showed me…

“But why… frogs?”

I’m not sure if it is because we finally reached the entrance of the library, or because of the question, but the hopping game finally stops.

“I tried remembering… but I couldn’t. Nii-san used to fold these animals for me. Little swans, cute rabbits, puppies, you name it. But despite trying for over an hour, I could only figure out how to make the frogs…”

Whether it is her expression or her explanation, both are just too amusing to the point where I can’t help but laugh and squeeze her hand harder. She seems a bit upset that I’m laughing, but that makes it only harder to repress.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry.”

I apologize while pushing down the final chuckles that bubble up, but she’s already slipped her hand out of my own to stomp ahead of me into the library in one of her passing little fits of anger. They never last very long, so after mom’s advice, I stopped worrying about them too much.

But I need to keep an eye on her, so I quicken my pace a bit.

To be fair, I don’t think she’ll run again. She’s tried really hard to fit in after the phone call with her brother - I’m not sure why I can’t even think his name? It’s always Nii-san this, Nii-san that. Lacking a face to put with the boy, I guess it is easier to think of him that way.

Either way, she’s been really well-behaved, and mom and dad seem to expect the worst to come out of it. But despite all their stern talk this morning, they can’t just keep her locked up. And thus I became the one on the hook for watching over her now.

She has disappeared into the children books section. Well, knowing her, she’s heading for the comics in the back.

When I arrive there, she’s not in fact there. Damn it, Setty! Don’t do this to me! Or yourself! Mom will be so ang…

“Bellyjelly! Over here!”

Oh, there she is. Whew. I really don’t want her to yet again end up in her ‘fluffy jail’ as she calls it. There’s been enough of that.

“What are you looking at?”

Her hands are pointing at the entirety of the shelves. Childrens reading books from M to P.

“I want to find a book about folding. Origami.”

She explains this to me quite animatedly, waving her arms around to imitate the folding aspect in case I don’t understand what she means from the difficult Japanese word.

See? Her mood has passed already. That makes me feel better.

I lean down to once more grab her hand, more for my peace of mind than hers no doubt, and begin to explain whilst leading her away.

“These are books with made-up stories. Adults call them fiction novels. You find books about folding somewhere else.”

Her smile is so adorable that it just makes me feel happy. Screw girl friends, I’d not even mind it if that cutie Edwin saw me walking hand in hand with her like this. If he can’t see the fun in this, he’d not be worth dating anyway!

Soon, we arrive at the right category. At least, I hope it is; I’m not sure if it walls under instructional or educational material. But who cares - the bookcases are next to eachother. She won’t notice: if it isn’t in the first I’ll just play it off as there being more bookcases than I thought.

Big sisters are supposed to be all-knowing. Just like her all-knowing brother. I’m not going to lose to mere blood!

Soon we are on our knees to look for the right book, because that is where our search has led us: the bottom shelf. Well, at least I don’t need to lift her up, it saves me a bit of trouble. Top shelves are going to be her brothers responsibility; if we need to share her he might as well get the annoying bits!

And off we go again. This time I’m dragged to one of those tables parents tend to dump their kids at whilst looking for books; there are a few toys and whatnot there, but Setty has long escaped the age where such toys attract her attention. So why..?

“Jenny, come show me?”

She inquires this lovingly as she plops her bum down on the ground, and I sit down besides her, unsure as to what she means. But it becomes clear moments later when she takes a pack of colored square papers from her bag. Mom had bought her those after seeing the gift she gave me made from plain printing paper, and apparently she came prepared.

“Okay, let’s see…”

As we page through the book, a variety of designs and instructions for said designs appear. Some are simplistic, others are quite hard and might take a whole afternoon to pull off. Most are animals, but there are also things like snowflakes and geometric shapes and… damn, that’s a lot of airplanes.

It turns out most designs aren’t quite limited to pure folding either; they take a bit of scissor work and perhaps some glue. Or multiple squares to fit together for really colorful creations.

Wow. There’s an entire world of even that silliness, huh? I thought folding was something kids did…

Soon, we find ourselves hard at work with some simple designs that involve just a single origami square. Initially, I end up having to point out to her how to read all the little arrows that designate folding and turning and whatnot, but soon she catches on. Her tinier, more nimble fingers are already escaping mine in their productivity.

I could swear her fingers are more slender than my own, even when I was her age. Does it have anything to do with her heritage? Her dad is Japanese, if I recall.. but her mother was an English woman, right?

Honestly, if not for the few Japanese words that frequently spill out of her - the biggest offender of which is ‘Nii-san’ - I’d think of her as an english lass thru and thru. She just doesn’t look Asian in the slightest.

Even ignoring the blonde hair, I can’t quite say her eyes have a noticeable Asian quality to them either. Her eyes aren’t quite a bright blue, but more resembling a blue from a barely lit-up night sky. And she’s graced with curly eyelashes and cheerful open eyes. Maybe her eyes have a slightly less round shape, but… nothing near enough to even think of her as foreign, right?

Actually.. from what I’ve seen, she doesn’t get much body hair, either. My real mother would have killed for that; she was waxing her legs at least twice every week from what I remember, and cursing every bit of th….

“…. inking of, Nee-san?”

I didn’t pay attention to what she said at all, despite looking at her and studying her face. God, that’s embarrassing!

“Nee-san?”

My voice responds before my brain catches up on what little I did understand, and I hear myself asking about something I already know the meaning of. It’s just… really weird… to hear her address me as like that.

“It means ‘older sister’. Are you dodging my question?”

She sounds just a bit annoyed, but I can only smile.

That’s the first time she called me ‘sister’..!!


	22. Graduation

## 22\. Graduation

22 June 2001, after dinner

As I leave the mess hall, the ringing of the bells is still in my ears.

It can’t be helped; it is a stupid little tradition around here for the kids who wrap up the treatment they came here for. Ugh.

They want us to consider this party as a positive note after having experienced the bad things that brought us here.

Screw that.

All I see in this is uncertainty.

Change.

Where the hell am I going now?

I’m pretty sure I can’t move in with Setsuka; I haven’t heard from her since the phone call and from what the therapist told me, he isn’t supposed to have let me talk to her to begin with.

The fact he bended the rules just a little after Setsuka’s sister-of-circumstances called - Jenny, that’s her name - was mostly because that girl pretty much begged him earlier in the day. And, to quote the man, ‘because I thought it would be good for you’.

I take the silly little party hat off and squeeze it into a crumpled ball of paper. Such nonsense.

Where the hell am I going to go?

Can’t go back home. Dad is still in his coma. And even if he woke up, I wouldn’t want to live with him as long as mom isn’t there. And she wouldn’t be.

Pfft. The crumpled party hat goes into the trash, bouncing on the wall before landing with practiced accuracy. It is too easy when they put those things in the corner like that.

As if he’d wake up. Rather, why don’t they just pull his plug? Let a man have his final rest and such. I bet he’d be happier.

“You’re way too wound up for a graduate, you know?”

The one that snuck up to me from behind is Miss Meadows, our drama teacher. I force a faint smile as I turn around, shaking my head whilst coming up with an excuse.

“I just wish my sister could have been here.”

“Oh, that’s some flowery bullshit you spout, Cain. You’re not the first kid to graduate who can’t return to the way things were. You are thinking about what comes next.”

Ah. Right. They’ve seen it all, haven’t they?

“Fine. But I still wish she’d been here. She loves cake with jam. I usually give her mine.”

The woman laughs softly at my statement.

“I suppose it is a better place than putting it in the garbage where you tend to leave your desserts after dinner, hmm?”

I roll my eyes, staying silent this time. There’s no escaping anyones eyes around here.

“But in fact,” she continues, smiling at me whilst holding out an envelope, “I was here to give you this. Want me to paraphrase the contents?”

There is half a mind in me that wants to tell her to shut up and that I’ll read it myself. I’m not in the mood for the type of flowery, supportive mothering she takes to outside of her classes.

Whatever I decided, I took too long to decide on it, because she just continues to talk.

“It is an invitation for you to stay here for one more school year. We’ve currently got quite a few vacant rooms, and if we reach an understanding that you remain as an outstanding student others can take an example to, we’ll continue to give you room and board here. You’d attend everything save for the therapy sessions; you have gone through yours already and there are some privacy and guardianship concerns for us to worry about now that you aren’t an official patie.. participant anymore.”

She pauses a moment as she looks me over. She no doubt sees me crack a smile. That’s the best news all day.

“It’s just governmental rules. We can’t just give treatments to a minor who is also under our temporary guardianship. No matter how much we believe you’d still benefit from it, there are separation of concerns that we really need to keep in mind. Even this extra year is just an amendment to the law that exists specifically to serve as a transitional phase to avoid passing you around as a hot potato until a permanent solution is in place.”

I snort softly, rolling my eyes. “Isn’t that why you should be looking for permanent solutions before I even graduate?” I answer with a cocky grin, and it leaves the woman to frown just a bit at my attitude.

“Well, your situation is special. Nevermind that breakthrough you had with your therapy; usually there’s a more linear progression of improvement that lets us get a better estimate of when you’d be leaving. Half a year ago, you had made no progress despite already exceeding the 6 month treatment plan for you. And a few months ago, you suddenly perform like a Mr. Perfectly Adjusted Teenager.”

She laughs. I laugh. But I don’t think either of us thinks it is funny or amusing. She is prying. And I don’t want to answer.

“I was finally motivated for the future. That’s all.”


	23. Pin & Play

## 23\. Pin & Play

8 July 2001, in the morning

No. No no no no why’d I open my smart-ass mouth why…

My entire body feels tense. I’m shaking. And I’m sweating even more than I should.

Clara is just walking slightly ahead of me and Jenny.

So she doesn’t see it.

That devilish grin on her lips.

She’s taking pleasure in my suffering, too.

Hell, it was all her plan, I’m sure of it.

And worst of all, her hand is like a vice on my own.

I can’t even run. Hell, I’m feeling dizzy and nauseous.

STUPID JELLY BELLY I HATE YOU! TRAITOR!

“Deep breaths, sis. Deep breaths. You can do this.”

‘THAT IS EASY ENOUGH FOR YOU TO SAY!’ is what I want to scream, but I end up following her oh-so-kind advice. There is no real way to leave this hole I helped dig for myself according to her plans.

My hand squeezes hers even harder, and to her credit, she doesn’t flinch despite my very avid attempt to dig my nails into her skin.

Pin & Play.

Written in bright red neon with a darkish and grey backdrop. Some sort of resting female-looking silhouette serves as the decorative line that is meant to adorn the words. The knee is popped upwards in an awkward angle. It looks as uncomfortable a pose to hold as it looks appealing to the eye.

Kind of like our purpose for coming here, come to think of it.

A sweaty shiver overtakes my spine again, and I make my steps smaller, but Nee-san gives no quarter. Her grip is like a vice that is now pulling me forwards, nearly making me stumble when my feet don’t lift far enough to get over the threshold into…

… WAAAH, THIS PLACE IS SCARY!

I freeze on the spot as my eyes land on the attendants, and at this point Clara turns around with an equally bemused expression. A part of me cannot help but note that at least her smile isn’t as sadistic and predatory as Nee-san’s, but please, this is not fair. I take it all back!

Why does that girl have thorns all over her arms?

Why are his ears drooping?

If there’s that much metal in her ear, did they replace it so it wouldn’t fall off?

Wait, does that stick go through his nose and… are his eyes really RED!? Is he a DEMON!?

They both laugh sadistically at my utterly normal response like the hellspawn they appear to be, immediately having spotted what they no doubt understand is their latest customer hiding behind her older sister.

They don’t drink blood, do they? Eeewww. I don’t want to be a sacrifice! Not even a little snack!

The girl attendant motions to the Demon to back off and laughs as she approaches me. I’ll call her a Succubus, because that is what she looks like more and more. An evil, evil succubus. With thorns on her arms and that spikey collar thing around her neck. Go away from me!

“He doesn’t drink blood.”

Whoa. She read my mind? TRULY A SUCCUBUS. But does she…?

“I don’t either, for the record.”

Wow. That is so scary. She knows it all.

“Do you eat souls?”

I can’t help but blurt out that question. Mom had once said that devils hunger after the innocent souls of men.

She laughs again, shaking her head which causes a tinkling of sounds. Wow. Are those bells in her hair? Wait, her hair is green there?

;“Only when freely offered.”

The Demon responds with a booming laugh from a distance, and Clara seems to be on my side, giving the man a bit of that mom-look. You teach him, fake-mom!

“I take it you are here for the this and that?”

I can’t quite make out what the Demon means because the Succubus is blocking my view, but being the subject, I know damn well what the subject is, especially as I see Clara nodding.

At this point Jenny abuses her height on me, and pushes me to the front. Why do you betray me so, Nee-san?!

“I’m Cassandra. And he is Timothy.”

Her voice is as smooth and comforting as I always imagined a succubus would speak. Even that little bit of lilt.. it just fits so perfectly.

Meanwhile, Jenny wanders over towards Clara and the Demon. I’d pay attention to what she’s saying, but I can’t get much further than her knowing the guy. Why am I being left aloone?!

“I realize you are a bit scared right now, but it is all okay. It won’t hurt you, and only lasts a couple of minutes for a lifetime is joy.”

She grabs my hand in the few moments I am distracted and begins to lead me away. I thought the wiles of a Succubus didn’t work on females?!

I am sorry, Nii-san. I’m about to become a sacrifice.

She’s even lifting me up in a chair, looking all gentle and sympathetic but I’m on to you!

“Timothy will be over shortly. We both take care of half the business, you see. He does the sort of work you are here for, and I am the more artistic touch. See, don’t these look nice?”

She’s trying to put me at ease, and I should fight it, but looking at arms beats looking at the eyes of a Succubus. So I’m looking at those arms. They look like a painting of a wild, thorny overgrowth with the occasional little red flower peeking out.

“They are pretty.”

I try to flatter her half-heartedly. Maybe she’ll make it painless.

“Thank you~~! I thought so, too. When you are a bit older, I’d be glad to draw something pretty on your arms, too.”

My nature betrays me as I smile at her on reflex. Why am I such a child?

“But for now, you are only getting your ears pierced. I think I recognised your sister. Isn’t her name Jessica? She came in a couple of years ago.. well, I guess it is more than that. About six years or so?”

My voice sounds weak as I try to correct her on the name, but I’m not quite interested in conversing a lot. I’d like to leave now, please!

“She was a bit younger than you were at the time, but she didn’t squeak a bit. Timothy already had his red eyes back then too. I remember her quite well; she was really brave.”

I know I’m a sissy. You don’t have to rub it in!

“You are very similar to her, not crying or sniveling or anything. Although she’s a bit luckier with her genes. Vibrant red hair like hers is rare and always a hit with the boys.”

She must have seen me rolling my eyes and rubs over my knee to console me. “You’ll care when you are a bit older. Not that your pretty shade of blonde is bad in any way.” she teases me with a gorgeous smile and matching wink.

Ugh. What is it with adults and boys? They love talking about that, except when it is Nii-san, because then they get pissed at me. Stupid!

I miss you so much right now, Nii-san.

You wouldn’t have betrayed me like Nee-san. You don’t have earrings to begin with, and thus you couldn’t trick me into saying those words while fake-mom was listening in.

Saying that I want to get my ears pierced some day does not and has never meant I wanted to get them pierced today! I don’t care that girls five years younger than me are already getting their ears abused! I have eight more years until I am an adult, why does it have to be now?!

Timothy walks in. He’s covered his Demon-like claws in some sort of plastic gloves, and walks to a rack on the side. My eyes are drawn to it, despite the Succubus attempt to keep my attention away. Are those torture devices?

“Look over here, love. You’ll be out of here in five minutes.”

She’s talking to me, but my eyes are focused on him. He’s a big, muscled guy. Is he just the strong type, or is he also fast? I need to know if I plan to run.

“If you aren’t out of here by then, how about I give you your first pair of studs for free? You’ll look like a real lady with those.”

Succubus. Temptation. Manipulation. It all goes hand in hand.

I wonder if Nee-san is related to this woman.

Nee-san said Nii-san would be disappointed.

The Demon is fiddling with my ear, but I’ll stare at the Succubus and do my best to ignore him. At least she won’t eat my soul. I hope.

From the corner of my eye I see that Jenny is waving as she stands at the door; this isn’t that big of a room so I guess they cannot enter.

Nee-san, why did you dare me to go through with this?!

Nii-san, would you really think me to be a little baby if I chickened out?

Nee-san, why did you manipulate me so?!

Nii-san, would you really think I’m cuter with earrings?

Nee-san, I’m afraid of the needles and the knives and the pain and the…

OWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. IT HURTSSSSS!

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now the other earlobe, and then you’ll be free to go.”

I want to cry, but the tears don’t come out.

It is because I realize that Nee-san’s smile at the doorway is most evil thing in this room.

She’s daring me to cry. She’s daring me to be a baby.

She’s daring me to call it off.

Damn you, Jellybelly!


	24. Freedom

## 24\. Freedom

17 July 2001, early afternoon

It has been ages since I could go around unsupervised. It used to be unbearing to be in what amounted to a cage, but it seems you can get used to anything; even being stuck inside an institution for all of your days.

For now, I’ll just consider it one of the perks of graduation.

Normal teens are allowed to go out, so it only makes sense that I’d also be allowed to do this now that I’ve graduated. Yet it takes every bit of my my inner strength not to feel like I am breaking the established rules that I’ve gotten used to.

It is weird.

I have lived in this area for a year now. Yet it feels like I am on a day trip, visiting some strange place.

Is it just because I don’t know the city? Or is it because I lack a familiar, endlessly babbling distraction by my side to break up the silence?

And yet, even without the distraction, I manage to get lost, both in my thoughts and as to where I went. Eh, I’ll find my way back. Hopefully before this heat gets to me; I really should have taken a drink with me. Or asked for some allowance.

Ugh.

There’s some shade over there on that little wall; I’ll just lay down on there for a bit. Enjoy the breeze. Watch people going about their meaningless days. And go easy on my feet that aren’t used to walking so much.

I’ve been dozing off a bit when suddenly someone taps me on the shoulder. Rather instinctively, I lash out in self-defense, but my brain catches up in time to stop my fist from traveling too far.

Still, it travels too far to throw my balance off; I was resting on a tiny little ledge after all. Crap. The fact that the hand that woke me ends up steadying me is a small relief.

Said hand belongs to a police woman. She seems fit. Not particularly old. Nice blonde hair, nevermind that she also fills out that uniform pretty well. Oh. And a kind enough expression.

“Ah… hello miss. Good morning.”

My voice is a bit hoarse. Can’t be helped. It goes with being parched.

“This is a no-loitering zone, kiddo. Where’s your parents?”

I smile awkwardly.

“Not here. I stay in the institute due to .. a situation in my family.”

Telling a lady cop you punched your father into a coma? Yes. Let’s not. I don’t want any trouble.

As I move to sit up, I feel a bit whoozy, and it probably shows as her hand moves to my shoulder to steady me.

“Hey kid, did you drink anything? And eat properly? Do you have any food with you?”

She seems concerned. I’m not sure why; she isn’t a nanny, is she?

“Nah. I didn’t bring any. I was only going for a walk.”

Telling her I got lost on my first occasion out of the institute sounds so lame. I wouldn’t tell Setsuka, nevermind a pretty woman like her.

“Well, you are an idiot then.”

She rolls her eyes as she nudges me off the wall before talking into her radio in some sort of code. Her being the law and all, I end up doing as she says. Frankly, I feel far woozier than I thought. But she’s the law. And pretty.

Before I realize, she’s got me tightly pinned at the shoulder, and I’m marched to a nearby terrace.

“Let’s sit there and have a late lunch, okay?”

She sounds a lot kinder right now than she did a moment ago, and she ends up talking to the server who wanders off to do god-knows-what.

“But lady, I don’t date older women…”

She seems flabberghasted by my response, then bursts out in laughter.

“I don’t usually date younger boys. Nevermind buying them a drink; you really are going to give me a bad name by having me treat you, you know that?”

It is only when the waiter comes rushing up with some sandwiches, glasses and a whole carafe of icy water that it all starts to make sense to me.

This police lady must really, really like me. Wow. Look at that gorgeous smile. So much like Setsuka’s when she grows a little bigger. So pretty.

What an amazing first date.


	25. Gloating

## 25\. Gloating

2 August 2001, in the morning

“Admit it, you were about to wimp out!”

As has become the pattern for the last two weeks, I goad her the moment she brings it up.

“I was not! It’s only a hole in my earlobes, you know? Not childbirth!”

Sometimes, this little sister of mine gets really stubborn. She fixates on things for weeks on end, and unlike the usual subject of Nii-san’s well-being, I was the victim of her fixation this time.

Well, fair enough, I kind of deserve it.

“Oh, so you weren’t scared at all?”

I completely understand why she didn’t have her ears done before. No family wants to run around with a little girl kicking up a fuss, no matter how cute and adorable that fussing might be.

Now she’s staring at me, angrily. She was totally scared. I get that Timothy has taken his hobby to extremes, but she ended up outright ignoring him after asking about them drinking blood.

Crap, I’m almost laughing again.

“That’s not the point! I didn’t want to do it yet!”

“So why didn’t you just say so? I am sure mom would have gone there with you for your birthday, or maybe next year…”

She gives me a push, and I fall back in the chair with a laugh as I eye those ears of her. Her first pair of studs. Nothing special, but…. I’m not sure why, but she looks like trouble with those in.

“Cassandra said you cried when you had yours.”

No, no she didn’t. And no, I didn’t either. Timothy was a bit scary, but I was actually quite excited to get my ears pierced way back when.

“Liar. She said no such thing!”

“She did too!”

Ah, Setty. I was your age once. I know you just want to get under my skin now. I move to stand up from the bed.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Huh, where?”

“To Pin & Play. Let’s go ask Cassandra what she said…”

Her eyes almost seem to fall out; they are opened that wide in shock.

“Uh uh, no. You don’t have to. She and that guy are probably really busy…”

I laugh. Ah. Messing with her is just too much fun!

“That’s fine. We’ll just look at their jewelry a bit. And maybe some of Cassandra’s art; she’s got a huge book of them, did you know?”

Seeing her face isn’t even necessary anymore. She’s just too invested in maintaining that ‘face’ of hers and not being caught embarrassing herself.

I wonder if her brother is this easy to manipulate; those Japanese thoughts about honor and the sort are really, really useful.

And fun!


	26. Pride & Prejudice

## 26\. Pride & Prejudice

14 September 2001, at the shopping district

This will be the fourth time.

But this time, it is different.

The first time, I entered here under duress. I have to fight for Nii-san.

The second time, I entered here because she left me no choice. I am not a wussy crybaby!

The third time, I wandered without a choice. Fake-mom was being so embarrassing, going on impressing boys and what kinds of earrings are popular right now… I just wanted to die.

Didn’t she understand the only reason I came back with Jenny was because she goaded me?! I really did not come for the jewelry, although Jenny had been eyeing several of the shiny things as possible means to waste her accumulated earnings on.

She’s been doing a paper route since the last few months. If she hadn’t been buying me the occasional jawbreaker, I would have already yelled at her to stop flaunting those coins and bills like some sort of tacky heiress that Scrooge McDuck would hang out with.

Oh well. I don’t care what Jenny wastes her money on; I supposed she earned it herself like I earned those jawbreakers by folding the occasional paper animal for her. She even got me two last week when I coloured that lion for her; she really liked that one.

What I do care about right now is.. mustering the courage to enter there.

Alone.

I take a deep breath and wander over, pushing the door open. The ever-present music pulses and booms into my body; it isn’t loud or anything, but it is a very definite presence that makes one feel either alive or possessed… my feelings and brain aren’t quite in agreement on that issue!

Ah. There’s one of the hellspawn. The worst one. Okay, he is a person just like she is, but first impressions just stick, you know? It isn’t like they aren’t to blame, looking like they left some movie set about the occult whenever I come in.

“Ah. Setty! Came in alone this time, I see!”

That booming voice is immediately recognisable, even if I haven’t spoken to him much. It screams ‘manly man’ as if to compensate for having been given such a timid name.

Instinctively I try finding the more inviting one of the two, Cassandra. Timothy and all those muscles of him combined with those red eyes? They just give me the heebiejeebies and I’d rather not hang with him.

Dang. I can barely see Cassandra’s back through one of the open doors leading to the little white-tiled rooms in the back. That’s where they receive their customers, although I can’t help but think of them as patient-turned-victims.

Cassandra’s tattooing work tends to take hours compared to Timothy’s easier punch-a-hole work that typically finishes in a matter of minutes. Cassandra was kind enough to explain those sorts of things to me and Jenny last time.

Which unfortunately means I’m stuck talking to Timothy this time, huh?

“She’ll be in there for a while yet. That customer had her prepare a custom three-colour design and today’s visit is for the first layer.”

I force a smile to my lips as I nod understandingly to Timothy. After all, if someone treats you well, you can’t be impolite. Even I know that. But even then, I wish Jenny were here. She did most of the talking the last two times we were here.

“Hello Mister Timothy. How are you?”

My timid words match my timid voice, and I can see him grinning as he motions me over. He’s probably used to scaring the bejeesus out of people, come to think of it. Well, I won’t say it, but in my mind I’ll still thank him for not coming to greet me. Having him stomp over in greeting would probably stick around in my nightmares for at least a week!

I find myself walking up to him faster than I should. Yes. It’s best not to tempt him to stand up and meet me half-way, after all.

“Doing well. Currently working on our books. Owning a place like this is expensive, and if it isn’t done right, we’ll go out of business.”

He laughs softly, pulling out a chair besides him which I sit down upon after some trouble; it is one of those higher-and-narrower-than-typical chairs, almost like you see in movies at bars. But I manage it. Without help. Thankfully. Thank you for not even trying to help me up here, Timothy.

“Oh. That sounds bad. Are you going to?”

I ask this with an inquiring tone, my eyes avoiding his and looking at the incomprehensible gobbledeegook on his ledger. He’s got terrible handwriting. Or maybe he writes in the language of the occult. Or is writing books so difficult that you need lessons to properly understand what is written? And how would you read it, then?

“Ah, no way! With her and me? We’re the dream team!”

He laughs proudly, his hand motioning around us.

“It might look quiet, but that doesn’t matter. We’ve got a good reputation. Our customers know where to find us. Cassy is the capable artiste that draws the whales in; a few good jobs for her a month already settle the rent. And then there is the smaller tattoos she does for the majority of our customers, as well as the little piercing jobs I do. Those two combined are also enough to keep this place afloat. Ignoring the running costs, that would still be barely enough for her and I to manage our monthly bills.”

He talks a lot, and I am decided: he’s definitely full of it. Do you need to show of like that? I have no clue what you are talking about!

“You sound good at it.”

I weakly say. I mean, what else is there to say? ‘You are so amazing Timothy, please teach me?’ Dear god no.

“I better! It’s how we do things. She’s got the artistic talents, and with that comes a lot of time spent on customers and other odds and ends. That leaves me doing the books and ordering supplies; oh and don’t forget ordering the jewelry that draws in young ladies like yourself so you’ll come in and chat with us. You don’t know it yet, but you’ll be our future customer.”

He laughs heartily at that, but I roll my eyes. Having my ears pierced once was more than enough, and there are more places that sell earrings than this imposing palace of the occult.

“I can’t afford any of your stuff! I don’t get enough pocket money to afford even one of those really tiny earrings.”

My response is somewhat animated, but he just laughs at seeing my pout.

“Jewelry is an expensive hobby, Setty. If you could afford it, I’d think that something was wrong with your parents for spoiling you so much!”

His amusement just grates me. Can’t he see I at least wanted him to let me try some of those pretty pieces on? My earlobes finally feel normal again, so I should be reaping some benefits from my suffering, right?

“Ah, hey Setty! I’ll be done soon; I’ll come chat once I’m done with this customer!”

Ah. The raised voice comes from the other room, but her back is still turned this way and I cannot see her. Is she psychic..?

No, she probably heard my voice at long last, or perhaps.. she must have heard him say my name. Timothy has a loud voice. And the song did just end. Yeah, that explains it.

“That’s fine. I can’t pay you anyway!”

I call back with my voice raised, causing even that customer I cannot see to laugh with a witch-like cackle. Even the customers in this place are weird. That’s got to be a coincidence, right?

“So. Why are you here, lass? It isn’t just to chat with me, right?”

Timothy seizes the opportunity to finally ask a question that matters. If it was another shop, I’d argue that perhaps the attendant knows people really well, but in this case, he probably knows the effect of himself on customers.

You don’t just shoot the shit with Satan’s cousin.

“Oh.. I thought I could maybe look at Miss Cassandra’s black book again.”

I state my goal of the day’s trip clearly. It isn’t his book, so why would I bother praising the contents of it?

He smiles, chuckling as he leans down under the counter to pull a book with a black cover out, but I see another one just underneath with a red cover.

“Oh, that makes sense. She showed you two some of her art last time, didn’t she? Well, have a look.”

This book is just as big as it was last time, but it impresses me nevertheless. It’s not quite like an encyclopedia, but it is way bigger than even the biggest textbook I’ve seen at school. Especially once Timothy opens it, I realize my arms are just so tiny in comparison.

The size isn’t just for showing off like you’d expect some sort of evil grimoire to be. No, the picture inside are huge and blown up. Pictures of tattoos. And close-ups of details of those tattoos sometimes. Done on living, human skin that shows red tints as if the demonic energies are swirling underneath.

There aren’t even any words; this is the first picture book I have seen that is meant for adults. Once more, I feel this place is really out of this world. I just end up studying the pictures in silence, flipping the pages one by one.

Timothy seems to find the moment fit for silence and opts to write his books whilst glancing at me from the corners of his eyes from time to time. I’m sorry Timothy, it is not that I don’t trust your intentions, but your red eyes just creep me out to where I feel like I’m sitting on needles.

Still, I manage to enjoy these books for what they are: gorgeous pieces of art created over the past decade. The way mere black lines manage to make these things look so real is startling. Light and shadow and darkness. Fine little lines in this pattern give a soft appearance, but in the opposite direction it looks fierce? And those thicker lines feel very gentle for some reason. And how do you make that transition from skin to black so smooth? Why does the crack in that skull look so realistic?

Cassandra placing her hand on my shoulder startles the bejeesus out of me. She must have finished with her customer. Thankfully she doesn’t make fun of me being startled like Jenny would, instead opting to talk about the book.

“What do you think? Do you want me to draw something like that on your back?”

My surprised and very hasty headshaking does make Timothy laugh under his breath though. At least he doesn’t involve himself saying something lame like ‘it would suit you’ or whatever.

“No no no! But I think your art is very pretty.”

In the moment, childishly blunt statements are the best my brain can come up with. Inwardly, I feel like cringing.

“Oh thank you. I have been drawing a long time, so I am glad you think so. Can you imagine that some people tell me my art is terrible despite having loved drawing since before I was your age? It always hurts a little bit, even if I’ve got calluses on my heart nowadays to the point where I just ignore their rudeness.”

I gasp. That’s so unfair. She worked hard on those, didn’t she?

“I love drawing too. And origami. Which is the folding of birds and frogs and all sorts of things. Jenny and Nii-san are always happy to receive them, saying they are really good.”

She ends up laughing.

“Oh? You like to draw?”

Her question seems a bit loaded, as if there is more to it than I can make out.. but despite the half second of contemplation, there is no sensible reason as to why I feel like that.

“I do. But I like folding, too.”

Her finger moves to the book, the Succubus-like nail coming to click on the plastic sheets that cover the printed pictures.

“Then how about we make a little deal?”

Suddenly, I am reminded of my first impression of this place and him and her.

Am I about to enter into a deal with the devil?


	27. Star-crossed

## 27\. Star-crossed

13 October 2001, leaving the building

I groan inwardly as I see her coming down the hallway. The exit is right there, too.

Too late; I cannot turn around now. Her eyes have found mine already. And there is clearly no dodging the upcoming chat.

Damn it. As if this day wasn’t bad enough already.

“Cain. There you are. Have you given any thoughts to my offer of the other day?”

My evasive smile and helplessly raised shoulders seem to embolden Miss Meadows. Seriously. Why does she care so much?

“Come on. It would be good for you. And you know you’d enjoy it.”

I shake my head as I go about making an excuse.

“I don’t think the theatre suits me very much. Even if it is just some acting classes, it is boring and old-fashioned.”

My words are intentionally a bit blunt, and they achieve the intended effect of taking the wind out of Miss Meadows’ sails.

“That’s just an impression. Yes, Shakespeare is a classic, but they practice and perform musicals like Fame or Chicago, too. Those aren’t old fashioned at all, with energetic dances of this generation. There are a lot of cute gir..”

“Not interested.”

I roll my eyes. Seriously. Why do adults always think that mentioning ‘girls’ will make a difference?

She frowns a bit harder, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder. Again with the familiar touching? Geez, woman.

“Think about it some more. You have talent, and I don’t think it is good for you to just wander over the streets every day when school classes wrap up. There is no future in that.”

I side-step to signal my unhappiness with that hand on my shoulder, my eyes trying to find some sense of understanding in that gaze of hers. Instead I find myself realizing she is pushy beyond her usual pushiness; would she usually not have passed by me already to do her thing?

Sometimes, there is that moment of crystal clear understanding where you feel as if you are looking in on the world from a distance.

“Oh. I see. That policewoman followed up again, didn’t she?”

For an actor, she isn’t good at hiding her thoughts at all, that eyebrow twitching uncontrollably like a pregnant grasshopper.

“She called in the other day. Apparently you were walking by the main road near the forest? She was rushing to a call at the time, or she’d have talked to you. She wanted me to tell you it isn’t a very safe place to walk; there is no footpath.”

I sigh audibly. Time to play so stupid that she knows I’m playing stupid. Or this conversation will never end.

“I just went on a date with her once. Why is she so fussed about me? She is pretty but her attitude stinks, always thinking she knows best and gets to admonish me.”

Miss Meadows doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry right now, and just snorts, shaking her head as the hand I dodged early brushes lint off my shoulder. Seriously, all those females just want to endlessly mother me. Dust won’t kill me!

“You brat. So why are you leaving?”

I raise my eyebrow, feeling a bit miffed. I take a deeper breath, remembering those lessons about anger and calming down.

“Don’t I always leave for a walk after school? What’s your problem?”

Now she raises her eyebrow, the twitching grasshopper having made place for a gracefully arcing bridge.

“Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me WHAT?!”

My voice isn’t raised, but the frustration sounds through clearly.

“Your little sister is coming to visit. They called forty minutes ago to make sure it was convenient.”

Convenient? Hah. Those foster parents of hers probably wanted an excuse not to come here. She probably whined endlessly to visit me for her birthday today, and left them no other choice.

Gradually I realize my mind is so unaccustomed to what is happening that I didn’t process what was actually said.

Setsuka is here?

I turn around and sprint away. Before those stupid caretakers of hers whisk her away again because they can’t find me instantly. I cannot let that happen!


	28. Inferiority

## 28\. Inferiority

13 October 2001, in the mess hall

This just makes me angry.

Very unreasonably angry.

Just look at her. Carrying that plastic bag. Wearing her prettiest dress. Her nails coloured to complement. Her hair cutely wrapped up in a ribbon.

Looking all hopeful. Staring around towards every little movement with the sort of skittish happiness that reminds me of a girl about to see the boy she loves.

Well, she does love him, but not in that way.

Wasn’t this brother of hers punctual? Concerned? Caring? Perfect in every conceivable way?

If he takes any longer, she might cry.

That person mom asked said that he likely left already; they had seen him go straight to his room to get his coat for a walk.

Seriously? You know your sister is coming, and you go for a WALK?

The door slams open.

OK, it does not quite slam thanks to the stopper, but the boy that appears in the doorway seems terribly flustered. It’s got to be her brother; I doubt there’s another kid that looks quite that Asian in this group.

And she noticed. She nearly jumps off her chair and rushes towards him. You could film this and make tons of money; all of it is as if it came straight from a movie. Fuck. I should have filmed it. She’d treasure the tape for the rest of her life.

Then again, we don’t own a camera, so I guess I have a good excuse for not having filmed this reunion.

“Oh. You wear earrings nowadays? They suit you.”

His voice is pretty casual as he inquires about it, and she nods as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I wonder if he’ll be fooled by that brave attitude of hers…

Look at that. She’s outright glomping him now. Arms wrapped around his waist as he awkwardly ruffles her hair. He probably used to do that a lot. And then he is smiling like..

Wow. He’s three years younger than me, but that smile.. I can’t even describe it. He’s going to be a player and break hearts, though. That’s without a doubt. That is what always happens when boys have looks like that: they get full of themselves and go around collecting girls hearts as if they were Pokemon.

Case in point: I don’t know him save for the Setty-colored stories, but even I feel fuzzy to the point of wanting to hug him. This kid is dangerous!

Ah. He’s looking my way.

He and Setty exchange a few words, and they approach me.

“This is my sister Jenny Becker. I told you about her.”

She’s being utterly adorable right now, seeming so happy and doing introductions like an adult. Cain really means the world to her, doesn’t he? I knew that.. but still, seeing it is different.

He extends his hand, and I hold it as we gauge eachother. He doesn’t have very manly hands; like Setsu, his fingers are long and flexible, except a bit firmer. There are calluses on his hands though; he’s clearly not a nerd that only sits inside.

“How do you do? I am glad to finally meet you, Cain.”

He smiles, looking towards Setty for a moment with a tender expression before glancing back to me, his dark eyes shining as if he knows something about me.

“Thank you for looking after her. I appreciate it.”

Still, the introductions go as they ought, and then he moved on to meet mom and dad. Well, that is awkward. In fact, Setty tried to make him not greet them, but he clearly has some manners, treating them nice and going into some sort of pleasantries.

Setty has been upset with our parents ever since we found out they tried to keep Cain away from her. I think they would have liked if she just kept throwing tantrums, but she’s just been shutting them out, sticking to pleasantries.

They think that is all of it. But I know better.

That girl is far too stubborn. Her happy smile right now betrays exactly how much she cares about Cain, and how little she cares about them.

Weren’t it for seeing Cain, would she remain as pleasant with them as she has been as of late? I wonder. Maybe dad would be able to really get through to her, but mom has been thoroughly shut out of her heart.

If Cain is anything like his sister… I shiver.

The thought of getting on the bad side of Setty already makes me blood run cold. But getting on his bad side? I think she’d never look at me again.

Setty runs off to the bag she had left in her chair, dragging the arm of her brother along despite him still talking to mom.

Seeing that makes me feel some kinship with the boy; when she is that excited to show me something I can’t find it in me to stop her, either.

As she picks it up, she pushes it into Cain’s hands.

“Your birthday present. From last year.”

He seems a bit embarrassed, his fingers pinching her cheek.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad about not having given you anything yet?”

He teases with a laugh, and she laughs with that childish smile that she gives me whenever she wants another jawbreaker from me. Oh Cain, you are in for it now.

Whatever the contents of the bag are, I’m not sure, but I do see Cain’s surprised expression as he turns the bag over on the table.

Out comes a whole fucking zoo. The most colourful zoo in existence. Some of the animals even spill off the table, and I jump in to assist them in putting them on the table and setting them all up on their feet. I think I make a few casual jokes about all the hard work she put into it, but my heart isn’t into it very much.

What the hell is with this treatment?!

I get some frogs for my birthday, and he gets a whole @ zoo?!

The fact he is picking them up one by one, looking at the little faces - she drew eyes on them, too?! - and appreciating their silly expressions just pisses me off.

The fact he is even thanking her earnestly for this silly gift without a modicum of sarcasm, judgement or unhappiness is not lost on me, either.

Fuck!! How am I supposed to compete with a brother like that?!


	29. Acknowledgement

## 29\. Acknowledgement

16 November 2001, playing with the succubus at Pin & Play

Best. Birthday. Ever.

There is no other way to put it; even a week later I’m still feeling all the positive vibes. I saw Nii-san again, and we talked about lots of things!

He is just as amazing as he always was. That teacher of his even mentioned that he is very talented and is going to go to the theatre for lessons. How amazing is that?!

It is a bit unfair though that he is still taller than me. I thought I’d finally be able to look him in the eye, but his chin still bumps against my forehead. How is that even remotely fair?

OW!

My forehead got flicked, and I look angrily towards the perpetrator, Cassandra.

“What are you daydreaming about? You were going to teach me, weren’t you?”

She laughs in an conspirational tone, and I smile awkwardly. We’re sitting at the table where Timothy is usually fussing about, but he’s always happy to make room to let the evil and occult forces make some headway through the pact between me and Cassandra.

“But I taught you, didn’t I? Fold that one forwards, turn the paper around, then pull back the earlier fold so it opens up and collapse it again on the other folds you prepared all the way at the start.”

I grin back at her to cover for my distracted thoughts. She smiles and does as I say, and after a few more folds, there’s a crane sitting on the table in front of each of us.

“Can you do it alone now?”

I can’t help but feel like an adult, teaching her like this and telling her to try for herself. She laughs in a very amicable manner.

“Oh, I’m not the one that gets distracted all the time.”

Ouch. Stupid succubus.

“So then my part is done, yes?”

She’s not distracting me of the truth this time. A few days ago she made me teach her twice what we agreed upon, merely because Nii-san was on my mind. Evil succubus.

Cassandra nods and smiles. “That is the agreement, is it not?”

I beam as I try to push my crane to her - I’m not going to need it anymore. She shakes her head and gives me a pencil as she pushes both of the cranes back to me.

“Show me.”

Damnit, why’d she have to do that? From teacher to student with only two words; my pride is being stepped upon by this woman.

Nevertheless, I give a forceful nod and begin to demonstrate what I have learned previously. The last couple of weeks, she’s had me drawing one thing, and one thing only.

Eyes.

I always thought eyes where just circles in circles, maybe with some lines. But she has turned it into this deep study that is a hundred times more difficult than geography at school.

‘The eyes are the windows to the soul.’

That is what she told me during my first drawing lesson. And she also told me that any drawing of a person or animal will never appeal if the eyes cannot convince. It sounded a bit vague, but it makes sense. Part of me thinks it was a plot to make me stare into her eyes. Sneaky Succubus, the temptress of mortal souls.

Mind you, I can’t really draw anything else, so now I’ve got these weird faces and bodies with oddly out-of-place eyes littering my drawings at home.

It feels stupid, and Jenny ridiculed me a few times already. But Cassandra is the teacher; she told me to just end our pact if I didn’t want to abide by the terms. Sly succubus.

This first crane, I’m giving angry eyes. She is the one who folded it, and it is a bit bulky and imprecise, so I imagine it to be a male crane. I borrowed a book about animals from the library the other day, and now I sort of know what bird eyes look like. Beady. Super-aware. And in this case, pissed off.

My own little crane I’m giving more gentle eyes. What if she were courting the other swan? That’s what I’m thinking. It isn’t really realistic, but I make the eyes a bit bigger so I can show a bit of light reflecting in the eyes. It isn’t very naturey.. but these are paper cranes to begin with, dangit.

I have had a lot of practice in this, so despite the tiny scale of the birds, I’ve gotten handy with it. The first times I did eyes on origami animals like these, I thought she was messing with me. But she’s just been teaching me that I don’t need a lot of lines to draw something with a soul.

“That’s good. I can see the love coming out of this one. And the other one looks like he is going to defend his soulmate from the crows that might try to steal her eggs.”

Wow. Praise? That I hadn’t expected. She’s always been complaining.

‘That frog looks silly.’

‘That monkey might as well not have eyes.’

Stuff like that. So it probably doesn’t surprise her that I’m grinning like an idiot. Who cares; nobody I care about can see anyway.

“Thank you. So does that mean I can start drawing big eyes now? With colours? And the people they belong to?”

I’ve really been waiting for this. I want to draw Nii-san’s eyes. His warm expression. His flustered appearance when he ran in.

However, she shakes her head resolutely.

“You can’t even draw an ant yet. Why do you want to draw people?”

Sweet and honeyed as her voice and smile may be, the meaning is pretty blunt and I pout, causing her to laugh.

“Don’t give me that look. You want to know how to draw. I am teaching you, aren’t I? But there are a lot of basic things to learn. Van Gogh did not paint his famous Starry Night when he started out; he was thirty-five by the time he made that masterpiece. And that was just a sky and some grass!”

I roll my eyes for a moment, not having a clue what she is speaking about. Fortunately though, they have one of those bulky computers sitting here, so she uses that to find a picture of the painting instead.

And it is really weird. Very pretty. Hypnotic almost. But still really weird.

“See? He captured the essence of reality. He saw in ways you and I don’t. But he understood how to give it soul. So if you want to draw beautiful things, you need to learn like he did.”

She rambles on a bit, but I think I grasp what she is saying.

“The beauty lies in the details, and then to take out their very essence. An ant is small. An eye is small. But a person is large. Can you take out the essence of a person?”

How would you do that even??

“You’d have to draw people every day. All the time. Fat people. Boys. Girls. Babies. Elderly. Clowns. Even diseased people. Is that what you want? To draw people?”

I purse my lips, thinking hard about it before shaking my head. Even when I ignore the diseased people and the clowns, it seems like the biggest bore.

“No. I want to draw beautiful things.”

She smiles an intoxicating smile. I AM NOT A MAN YOU SUCCUBUS.

“Then we’ll be studying ants next. They are beautiful creatures.”

And with that announcement, she pushes the keyboard away and begins to sketch on an empty piece of paper, explaining what she is doing and why she is placing the lines where she is putting them.

Does Nii-san like ants? My mind cannot help but drift a little.


	30. Fresh Meat

## 30\. Fresh Meat

4 December 2011, at the Lionheart Theatre

Miss Meadows got the final word in at the end.

I guess the old chatterbox is right on some things, like me needing stuff to do to stay out of trouble. A man without purpose is a man without a future; it is hard to deny that.

At the root of it is that Setsuka misunderstood the conversation, but I can’t find myself blaming her for it.

As an actor, it matters that I try to put myself in the position of whomever I am playing. And if I - for just a moment - imagine that I’m Setsuka who heard her brother is really good at acting, I’d be crazily happy about it.

The blame lies with me. I could just say ‘Nope. Not doing it.’ and that’d be it, save for repeating it a few hundred times for this stupid woman so she’ll give up.

But can I? Truly?

I don’t want to disappoint her. There is so much that I have taken away from her with that one outburst, and no matter how many reasons I had for it, the fact is she lives with that family because I made it impossible for her to live at home.

There are no dreams that I feel compelled to chase, either. I do not see myself become a soldier. Nor an officer of the law. Even the varied list of things like being a sailor, logger, lawyer or financial advisor don’t make me feel remotely motivated.

But her smile? That does. I could become an actor for her.

“We’re here.”

Miss Meadows speaks up with a smile as the car comes to a stop, and I nod in silence before getting out, not bothering with the chitchat she is fishing for. Something about it being a theatre that is over a hundred years old, and how it has fallen on hard times but still has its supporters and how fresh blood like me could help reclaim it some of its former glory.

Please, woman. I’m not the protagonist to save your dinky little theatre for the future. I’m just here to act..!

Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder as we walk to the Lionheart Theatre. I suspect she expects me to just go lost if I don’t get escorted in. Frustrating woman.

But I have to admit I see some positives. This isn’t some tiny excuse of a theatre in the middle of nowhere. It is in the center of town, with plenty of high ceilings with large arches. The floor is red and immaculate, and all things combined it feels almost deserving of the moniker ‘royal’. And the peek I see through a door as we head towards the backstage betrays that it isn’t a small podium either.

As we walk into the backstage area, I find that place is a town on its own. There’s a lot of space and even separate rooms. Sure, it all feels a bit older and more antiquated than just some other building, but there’s some people working on sets and a number of other fancy activities going on.

She was probably exaggerating when she said this place was going through a rough spot.

There isn’t much time to gawk as I get whisked off to a room titled **‘BS002: General Purpose Rehearsal’** , which tells me absolutely nothing. What I see inside, however… brings me to realize I made a gigantic mistake agreeing to this.

There’s so many of them.

Why are there so many?

Dear god, please go away!

But instead, they begin to shriek all sorts of things, one thing worse than the next.

“Kyyaaaaaa~~~!!” “He’s so cute!” “Oh my gosh, we finally got ourselves a real prince!” “Nooo wayyyy, he’s Asian? Wow. JACKPOT!” “I’d rather have had a muscled Scot myself.” “But he probably has an accent, right?” “I’ve got dibs!” “You can’t call that, he might not even like you!” “A flat board like you would say that!”

So. Many. Girls. And they just keep on yapping.

Within moments, I am surrounded by them. There is no where to go. This is utter hell.


	31. Snow Detail

## 31\. Snow Detail

5 January 2012, on the front lawn

Setsu and I have been put on snow detail today. It is rather unfair and borders on child exploitation, but hey, Chris said he’d bring back fish and chips if we’d clear out the footpaths around the building.

Well, that’s all you need to say to people who are truly tired of beans, peas and broccoli. We crave something utterly unhealthy, and fish and chips is a very tasty choice in that category.

Not that we’re getting much done right now: Setty first got distracted making a snow ant, yet another obsession courtesy of Cassandra. Then I hit her with a snowball for not helping me, and now she is retaliating in full force.

I’m on a half-cleared path, she is in the middle of the lawn where we tossed half the snow. She has cover and plenty of ammunition, whereas I’m stuck trying to dodge these icy balls whilst hoping to not slip and find half-way fresh snow near me.

I hold my more-ice-than-snow ball for a while, eyeing Setty to find a good moment to throw. And then I grin at her, changing my target from her to that monstrous ant she had been making.

Those P.E. classes where we did some baseball prove useful after all: my ice ball heads straight for the snow ant, leaving Setty to squeak as she.. actually jumps straight in front of the ant.

 _SPLOTCH_

That is the sound of an unreasonably hard snowball hitting my sister in the head, sending her toppling over. Oh fuck.

You idiot! Why did you jump in front of that?! It’s just some snow! Geez!

Oh crap. There is blood. Lots of it.

I rush over to her while feeling amazed that she isn’t crying. She might well be far too stunned by the blow to realize how hard that ball hit her. It was the snow ant that was supposed to get squashed, not her face dangit! Is it a concussion or something?

“Oi. Setty. You awake? Talk to me.”

Chris comes running out the front door looking worried sick; he had apparently been watching us. Unfortunately he’s wearing his morning slippers still, which leaves him struggling in this slippery weather.

Honestly, all I can see is all the blood running over her chin.

And then lots of whiteness. COLD!

The stupid little brat just shoveled my face full with snow, and now that’s getting my clothes.. oh you little..!

“Fucking hell Setty, stop it! You’re bleeding!”

There are no thoughts of censoring my language; worry and irritation make for a potent combination.

Chris has finally arrived at this point, looking her over with a concerned eye and asking her how she feels. I can’t help but stare concernedly while taking off my coat and getting rid of the remainder of the snow, shivering throughout. Damn this cold.

Setsuka is just grinning, and it turns out there is no permanent damage. No loose teeth or anything.

All that happened is that the force made a tooth go through her lip, causing all this mess.

Damn it Setty, you gave me a near heart attack!

He ends up escorting her inside, but as he reaches the door, he turns towards me.

“What the hell were you thinking, young lady? Using one of those fast balls in a direction close to your sister? Have you lost your mind?”

I want to retort - who would expect her to jump in front of that damn snow ant? - but I think better of it. The smashing guilt I feel right now leaves me no other choice.

“You finish cleaning the path on your own. As for other punishment, I’ll have a talk with your mom to see what is adequate. But when you come in, you better apologize to her, understood?”

I nod in silence. Having been convinced that his guilt trip was effective, he goes inside to help Setsu some more. Before the door falls into the lock, I can spot his slippers leaving a wet trail over the hallway floor that mom will definitely not get a kick out of.

Buying her a jawbreaker as an apology would probably be in bad taste, wouldn’t it? Hmm.

When there is no younger sister to keep you busy, boring work like this actually goes a fair bit faster despite being down a pair of hands. Of course, the scare just now means she is still very much on my mind.

It is a surprise exactly how many fireworks were sent into the air here during the New Year celebration. Of course, we are also responsible for that stuff to some degree, but because of the freezing wind we only stuck it out for like fifteen minutes. Most of this trash isn’t ours, but those things just fall down where they want to.

Fireworks aren’t fun when it rains that hard.

Garbage ought to be put into the trash, but it just isn’t doable to only shovel snow and let the rest be. I’ll just have to wait for the huge snow pile I’ve built to melt. That way, the garbage stays behind. But judging by the expected weather, that’ll probably take me waiting till next week.

In the end, all that remains is Setty’s snow ant that I cannot convince myself to shovel up, and a huge mess of snow a few meters away from it. It is honestly not quite impressive; a bunch of big snow blobs, with smaller ones pressed up against it to form legs and what-not.

But hey, it is about thirty minutes of effort. Yet somehow, the way the body is posed gives me a feeling of eerieness that I am very familiar with.

Our old house was infested with them. I’ve had them in my bed. In my breakfast. On my shoes. Screw that living nightmare.

I hate insects. Especially ants. They deserve to burn in hell.

But at least this one isn’t moving.

Clenching my jaw, I turn away and walk to the door to go back inside, my feelings of guilt winning out over a possible murder of a snowy creature that doesn’t live to begin with.

I guess I’ll go with the jawbreaker. Maybe she’ll laugh.


	32. The Unexpected

## 32\. The Unexpected

4 February 2012, in the midst of all the fog everywhere

It is.. what time is it anyway? Gods. My brain is so weird right now. A bit dizzy. Really drowsy. Yet so hyper-aware that the lights through the window seem to be whizzing passed in slow-motion.

Outside, it is really foggy. Can’t see more than two cars ahead of us, but it makes all those light beams stand out like little tiny spotlights that come to chase us like in the movie I chose not to watch last night.

Ugh. That other movie.

I don’t want to think of that movie, either.

Although I’m not sure I want to think of where I’m going, or what I’ll face there. That’s even scarier..!

Okay. “Use your common sense.” That is what Jenny will probably tell me if I start freaking out right now. Probably followed by some story of her being her and doing things so much better. Ugh.

But fine. I’ll think of one of them, because running away is literally impossible inside this stupid moving car with Jenny’s stupid hand resting so supportively on my own with the desire to replace Nii-chan!

But one glance sideways to look at her face makes me realize I’m just being unreasonable right now. What they call a bitch.

I offer her a weakhearted smile, and she squeezes my hand, which calms me down just a bit from the scary things in my head.

I’ll just think of one or the other.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…

Okay. Deep breath. The movie it is. FUCK.

Why’d I let Jenny goad me into watching that movie? I knew I wasn’t going to like it. It’s a horror movie! It said so in the title! She can take her cocky adultlike hairflip thing and put those hairs in her buttcrack! I should never have watched it, no matter how much she told me that ‘flowers can’t be all that scary’. She’s so mean sometimes, because it really, really was very scary.

I can still think of Seymour sitting in front of that window. Growing as time passes. Becoming scarier. Hungrier. And eventually gobbling up that dentist boy, and then all that follows…

Brrr! Why did I insist on staying up and watching this movie with them? Ugh. A week off school doesn’t make up for this at all, especially when you can’t sleep late like you planned to do. My brain kept going in circles all night, and then we suddenly had to get out early and make this stupid fu… trip. Brr.

“Are you scared, Setty?”

WAH! So NOW she talks! To startle me, even! JELLYBELLY!

I give her my vilest stare. I’m not forgiving her for tricking me into watching that movie. Nor for startling me.

“What’s there to be scared of?”

My words are as strong and edgy as they can be as I respond huffily. She smiles just a bit, and it pisses me off just enough to pull my mind off of the fact that we’ve nearly arrived at our destination: those corners and speedbumps make for a pretty unique combination.

“Nothing. But I thought.. maybe you are still thinking about the movie from last night, hmm?”

“AS IF!”

I yell out the words, and usually the pair of fakes would tell me to keep it down. Especially in the car. But not even they seem to bother, which makes this car-ride even more awkward.

“Really? You were digging your nails into my hand as much then as you are now.”

Jenny just keeps egging me on, and I pull my hand back before giving her a shove right as the car comes to an unsteady stop. Her head bumps against the window because of the timing, but nobody seems to think it is funny.

Not even me.

“Come, girls. Let’s stop the silliness.”

Well, Clara finally speaks, but she sounds resigned more-so than her usual mix of angry annoyance when we banter about like this.

I follow their example to get out of the car, and I can feel the cold, wet air brushing against my legs. The coldness presents itself especially well as I slam the car door closed behind me, the implied safety of the metal box now out of reach.

The place is deserted. Well, it is to be expected. It is still early, and.. the weather is crap. I can barely see the building stand out more as we walk towards it, the light glows behind the windows the easiest way to tell exactly where we parked in what can best be described as a concrete graveyard of spooky proportions given the current weather.

The words are large above the entrance. Are they flashing? No. That’s my mind. Ugh.

We’re definitely here. My feet cease moving, and I can feel Jellybelly tugging at my hand. I don’t want to go in there.

“Let’s go see your dad.”

I don’t want to. Nope. Nope. Nope.

I’d rather go see Seymour.


	33. Timeskip

## 33\. Timeskip

4 February 2012, some high-up floor of the Victoria Hospital

I… need a drink. A stiff one. A really stiff one.

Ugh.

I slept for just shy of two years. The calendar on the walls seems to show it is now february. That makes it… uhhh… twenty-two months…? Hmmmm.

Is that brain damage in action? So many twos. It seems wrong.

Anyway, I think I earned a drink after all this time going without, right?

“Nurse..!”

My voice. It croaks… no, that’s frogs. It cracks.

But in this ward of comatose people that rarely sees such bustle in the morning, my voice is like that is an emperor. A very parched, frail, weak-sounding emperor.

A somewhat heavy-set nurse comes stumbling in. Nurse Tina, I was told. The nametag seems to back it up.

It is more like wobbling. Too many muffins, no doubt. It isn’t as if the patients will tattle on her, huh.

“It’s a silly question… but.. can you tell me how many days it has been? Since the.. accident?”

The stare she gives me is weird. Weirder than when I asked her for some scotch earlier, which she shot down with no feeling whatsoever. That damn goose. Maybe I’ll be the first to tattle on her. I’d feel more alive that way.

“Eh.. I’ll have to calculate it… Give me a few minutes.”

Her smile is a happy, upbeat sort of smile that has no doubt strung along quite a few patients. As she waddles off to her station once more, I can only think of how this smile can’t compare to Matilda’s in the least, who is… was far prettier and gracious… fuck.

FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Why, Matilda?

What is the fucking point?

Tears spring into my eyes again, and I lift my hand to wipe them aw…

FUCK…! Muscle atrophy is no sodding joke. I can barely lift my arm up from the bed.

Now that nurse is going to have to come wipe the tears away again.

Oh. There she is. Such timing.

Nurse Muffin. That’s a good name for her. It also makes it easier to ignore that overly happy smile that grates me more the more I see it.

“I hope you aren’t very superstitious, Quinn.” she says jokingly, waiting out my non-plussed respose. Fuck, what is it with people in this country? Is it that hard to say Mister Hatori? .. I mean, Mister Heel? Really?

Seeing that I am just staring at her as an outlet for my frustration, she moves on with a less bubbly but still kind expression, drawing out the number of days that have passed. “Six. Hundred. Sixty. Six. Days.”

What? 666 days? That’s like… three times 222? Which is another number infested with the second digit. And there’s something to do with the devil here, too. I’m glad Matilda isn’t here… ugh.

Nurse Muffin’s smiling expression betrays her fun at my expense as my face apparently betrays my line of thinking while she wipes my face with a handkerchief.

“Your daughter should be here soon with her foster family. Are you excited?”

She changes the subject, and for once I’m a bit grateful. Matilda may have died two years ago, but.. I slept for pretty much all of that. Seeing Setsuka again.. that’s exactly what I need right now.

Something good that remains in this world.

“Has she grown much?”

I ask the most obvious quesiton.

“I don’t really know; I’ve only worked this ward for the last two months. She seemed like a cute girl the times she came in to visit you.”

What is it with the number two? GOD!

“Oh, she still visits? After two years?”

Why am I repeating that number now? Either way, I feel a bit surprised. There’s definitely some of Matilda’s heartfelt grace in that little body.

Nurse Muffin feeds me a straw so I can drink a bit of water, which makes speaking easier. I didn’t even have to ask, wow. She’s done this before.

“Of course she does! Of course, it is no doubt stimulated by the caretakers; they have the legal mandate to work towards reuniting the real family of the child where feasible. And you know young kids: out of sight, out of mind. So they probably wanted to make sure she at least had some memories of you, even if you didn’t wake up again.”

I swear something is wrong with Miss Muffin here. Seriously.

Is she just messing with me? Or are Setsuka’s caretakers really just wanting to torture my little darling with seeing my lifeless body week after week?

We continue to talk for a while. Apparently she’s got a new sibling now, some girl who was adopted by her current caretakers, and apparently, they’re quite chummy.

As the subject ends up shifting to Cain - fuck, I don’t know what to think of that troubled boy - I end up finding that I don’t really blame him for robbing me from two years of my life.

He had a point. Still has it, probably. No matter how much therapy he had, I doubt he changed much. There’s a lot of rage inside of him.

Why don’t I remember more? I’m quite sure he blames me for it all, but between the blur caused by this coma and my high blood alcohol content at the time, I can barely remember freaking out when I found out Matilda wasn’t breathing.

I am a true class act. An alcoholic. A fucking loser.

The door opens and I see a cute girl standing there.

Wait. That’s… Setsuka?

Dear lord… In the blink of an eye… She’s grown so much.

But that look she’s giving me… like a scared doe that is face to face with a wolf… goddamn. I am the lowest of the low.

And yet the first thing I can think of has nothing to do with her.

‘I need a drink.’

My vision goes blurry with tears as all the irreconciled feelings just burst forth in a tumble.


	34. Cockroach

## 34\. Cockroach

21 February 2012, in Marc’s office

Cockroaches never die, do they?

The phone in my hands seems to stare back at me. Mocking me.

‘Make this call, Cain.’

‘It has been long overdue, Cain.’

“Fuck.”

Opposite me is Marc. He would be one to keep me to a promise, after all. Especially this one. The cornerstone of my treatment.

My hand trembles a bit as I slide the scrap of paper on the desk towards me. And then, I start dialing while trying to ignore the shit-eating grin of the counselor.

“You know, that smile isn’t nearly as supportive as you’d like to think.”

He laughs, but doesn’t respond, clearly not rising to the challenge that will let me cease dialing the number.

I lift it to my ear. I hear the sound. It should be ringing on the other end.

“Yes?”

It’s a woman’s voice.

“Hi. This is Cain Heel. I’m calling to speak w-”

“Yes. He’s here. Waiting. I’m putting you on speaker phone, okay? He’s too weak to hold it still.”

That woman sounds just a bit too bubbly and happy. He’d probably drink an eyeful of a nurse like that, huh? The sound changes and I hear a small thump, as if the phone is being placed down.

“.. Hey Cain.”

“Hey dad.”

It is silent on the other side of the line.

Well, I guess it makes sense. He’s probably shocked. I don’t think I called him dad ever since she went blind.

“Huh. How are you, son?”

“Good.”

More silence fills the air, and as much as I had expected the guy across from me to make motions to hurry me along, he is just pleasantly sitting there, figuring he can enjoy the show on the sidelines.

Let’s just get this over with.

“So uh.. I’ve been in therapy.”

He tries to respond, but some coughing happens on the other side, and I think I hear the sounds of swallows. Probably a drink for his throat or whatever.

“I was told. Any girls?”

Really, dad? Fuck. And fuck again. No. I’m not calling him that, even if that is such an utterly dad-esque thing to say.

But he does not get to say that shit. My jaws clench as my eyes flit to the therapist opposite me who by all means appears to be the epitome of professional responsibility.

“Just some stupid bi-” I start saying, then recalling there’s someone overhearing me on this end, and probably more-so on the other end, “… law breaking types. Not my type.”

On his end of the line, he laughs. Or wheezes. Not quite sure what it is. I think that cute-sounding nurse of his is at least not offended judging the higher-pitched giggling that joins it, but maybe she just takes pleasure in seeing him suffer.

I would.

“So what’s your type, kiddo? Figure it out yet?”

What the hell is with this conversation? Can’t you just let me say what I want rather than get washed up in your fucking parental bloodhound mode?

“None of your business. LOOK.” I raise my voice a bit, a deep sigh escaping me.

“I’m just calling you for one thing, and I hope you’ll let me do it.”

He groans. It is that groan that betrays his bottom line as a parent. He’s always been bad at dealing with changes. He expected a father-son t??te-??-t??te, but instead I just want to get down to business.

Why is it that I, the son, have to understand how to handle a conversation like this anyway? Damn that old fart.

“I called you because I want to apologize.”

I _need_ to apologize, to be precise. But Marc will strangle me if I sneak in that technicality - the fact he is smiling so proudly means this was at the very least the right choice of words to please him.

“Oh. Well. You don’t have to.”

Goddamn. I need to. That’s the entire point of this call.

Would I even be speaking to you if it wasn’t to make sure this force of reckoning opposite me is going to shit over my treatment record? I don’t think he can turn back time, but he’s a damn therapist. They are way overpowered when it comes to screwing with you; the police have nothing on him.

At least the latter need proof. All Marc needs is a gut feeling.

“Yes. I have to. Dad, I am sorry for punching you.”

Marc frowns. His gaze is strong and tinged with disappointment. Well. No wonder. I didn’t mention the coma bit.

According to him, I need to ‘respect the outcome of my actions’.

I on the other hand believe that ‘I never intended for him to take such a prolonged nap’, and the outcome has nothing to do with why I punched his lights out.

Truth be told I wished he hadn’t woken up. Things were just improving in life. But now he’s going to muck things up again. It is what he is good at.

“I forgive you.”

I roll my eyes, but Marc is motioning his finger around. He wants me to reciprocate. Like we discussed.

Fuck that. I am not forgiving him.

One simple button press ends the call without an exchange of goodbyes. The weight in my chest that seemed to have shifted to my hand is finally gone as the phone is placed down on the desk.

Sorry Marc, I have no intention on passing this test of yours perfectly. I’m going to be satisfied with a C- this time.


	35. Forever Change

## 35\. Forever Change

7 March 2012, during visiting hour on the 7th floor of the Victoria Hospital

Life is so damn unfair.

I mean, OK. Dad is awake. That’s a good thing. And with the awkwardness finally out of the way, I am happy he’s awake.

But it is just so damn awkward, right? In all the ways.

Like right now. I need to keep reminding myself to keep from crumpling the drawing I was showing him; Cassandra said having a neat portfolio is important for the future. I put it down with the rest of the drawings.

“Cassandra isn’t dangerous! She’s an artist!”

Ugh. What is it with that ‘I know better than you’ look coated in sugary affection? This might be the courtyard of the hospital and as close to a backyard as you’re going to get, but this is still a public place! It is so embarrassing in so many ways!

Look at me, dad! I’m ten years old now! I don’t draw on the walls anymore!

“Oh honey. Please, calm down. I wasn’t saying she… intends to hurt you.” His voice has that pleading tone that I can’t quite put my finger on; maybe he used to use it when talking with mom? It is hard to tell with the way he slurs and switches words at random half the time.

Either way, I am so glad he’s stuck in a wheelchair right now. I’m sorry mom - please don’t be disappointed in me for thinking that - but I really am. It means he can’t just loom over me with that parental forcefield of righteousness to settle the argument.

“What do you know? You’re more than a year out of date!” I respond in the heat of the moment.

The painful grimace on his features says it all. That really upset him, even if he’s not showing it. My gaze drops down, and I utter a somewhat more pacifying apology, but he shakes his head as he motions me closer, which I do. He’s still dad, after all.

“We’re having this talk… exactly because I missed so much of your life. I can’t be a good father if I don’t know what is going on in your life, right?”

He’s got a point.. but it is so unfair. I grab his hand as he’s ruffling it through my hair; the simple motion betrays what I’ve told him a few times already in the past few weeks: ‘I am not eight years old anymore, dad.’

I guess he’ll take a while to learn. He’s not used that noggin’ of his for so long, after all!

“But Cassandra is not dangerous!”

I am quite clear as I insist.

“Not in the ways you can see, love. But I hope you’ll.. believe my worries. You’re talking about a woman with a lot of… unhealthy changes to her body who makes a.. living off of doing those things to people. The art you showed me,” he adds, a small nod towards the table with some mosquito sketches I’ve been doing, “isn’t.. exactly the cute sort of art you used to be fond of.”

The sigh that escapes me better alert him to my frustration and the patience that is running out regarding his reasonable ‘I am a parent’ argument.

“It’s not as if I really like mosquitos or fire ants or cockroaches. She said it is a study to learn to draw better!”

“Uh huh. And what other sort of people do you meet there, other than this To… Timothy guy who reminds you of a devil?”

Ugh. Did I really have to use that very-apt description around my dad? I want to slap myself in the face for being so stupid; I should have known dad would be like that.

“Just people. Some want a tattoo, others want a hole here or there. Some look like they are rich and have made it in life, and yet others look like they left one of those roadtrip movies with all the shiny motorbikes and all.”

The latter may outnumber the former perhaps three to one, but there’s also a huge amount of regular people. And he’d just focus thinking that it is a sea of tattood people and all sorts of bad habits. Ugh.

I guess he still thinks me to be the naive eight-years-old blabbermouth like before. The thought of getting one over on him is actually quite satisfying!

“What are you.. grinning about, girlie? Did you remember a good joke?”

My expression freezes in place as I step away towards the drawing I put on the table, presenting my back to him so he can’t divine my thoughts with those parental bursts of insight.

“No no. Just remembering how when I met Cassandra and Timothy, I thought all those things you said. It had me scared for no good reason!” I turn back and grin, lifting my hair a bit to the side so I can show off my studs.

“But see? Now I can wear earrings like these. It’s just in your mind! Conquer your fear, and you’ll understand!”

I sound a bit like those monks from the mountains from that movie we watched some time back, but that only makes me happier. As Cassandra told me once: imitation is the highest form of flattery!

Sure, she was talking about it being okay to imitate nature and it not being some sort of overstepping to study His Creations so closely, but I think it applies here, too. Movies are awesome!

Dad meanwhile just laughs awkwardly, trying to move our obvious disagreement along. “I’ll have to meet them some time, okay? I just want to make sure you are safe, sweetie. But maybe in a few months, the doctors will give me… official clean bill of health, and then we can be a family again.”

My expression freezes as I glance back at him.

“Really?” I hear myself ask the question, and I find that I don’t even know what I mean by it.

Does it make me happy? I guess. I’ve wanted things to be like they were for the past two years.

So why do I feel conflicted? As if I’d be losing something far worse than the drawing I spent the whole first week of class on?

“Mhmm. It will probably involve some lawyers, but officially, I am still your dad. And Cain’s dad, too. They can’t take that away from me. Or him. Or you.”

I force a smile onto my face. Does it look fake? I can’t tell.

I don’t even know if it is fake.

“That sounds great, dad.”

It doesn’t take a genius to tell that one sentence has brought back all the awkwardness from the first time we met after he woke up again.

The oddly chosen combinations of words that clearly do not belong in this time or place fill up the remainder of the visiting period, and I hate myself a little for being so glad that it is finally over.


	36. Ninety Percent

## 36\. Ninety Percent

15 March 2012, stuck in school

Do I go for a burger, a kebab or some good old fish and chips?

Maybe I should do sushi… but there’s no good sushi place near here. Besides, I hear that stuff gets really pricey. Of course, just making her happy alone is pretty much priceless.. but it becomes a value proposition.

Setty will be happy either way. She’s simply naively innocent in that childish, utterly adorable way. Fill her belly, and she’s happy.

Maybe I should feed her jelly so that nickname she calls me by has some actual meaning. Unintentional giggles bubble up as I consider how I might make this a thing, and how she’d likely end up hating jelly.

“Is something the matter, Miss Becker?”

Whoops. I flip my pen around between my fingers, trying to look studious as I move my gaze up to meet the teachers gaze.

“Just thinking of my lil sis, Mister Parks. I just thought of a way to cheer her up a little bit. She’s got it tough.”

The monster of math peers at me for a moment, sighing and glancing towards the door. “Screw off. There’s only ten minutes left anyways and I don’t need a distraction like you to take everyones minds off of Pythagoras.”

Really? Sweet! He’s not nearly as strict as his reputation makes him sound. After throwing him a grateful smile, I quickly start to pack my bag to the dissatisfaction of my classmates, but then he clears his throat and raises a finger.

“One condition. You will score an A on your next test, or I’ll mark you as absent for todays class.”

I groan, sighing and nodding as I resolutely continue to pack. Fuck it. Setty needs me more than this old grump, even if it is just ten minutes earlier.

“Well.. wow. Okay.” He sounds as surprised as he probably is at my accepting those terms of his. We both know how much studying that is going to take on my part.

“You know, I was going to offer you an alternative, but seeing how resolutely stubborn you are, I think this might just be a good thing for your grades. Have fun then, little lady.”

That’s what I’ll do! “I’m going to bring some jelly to that belly of hers.” I laugh as I dart out of a class filled with envious stares to quickly find the local convenience store. I’ve only got ten… no, fifteen minutes to work with. Miss Perfect likes to keep her classes late to spite them for being troublesome in class. And her classes are always troublesome.

When I arrive at Miss Perfect’s geography classroom, it is just letting out. It takes only a few minutes to extract her from her group of friends before we’re off to Pin & Play. I often escort her there just to make sure she arrives safely; the school isn’t too far away from the shop, but it is far enough to make Clara uncomfortable.

I don’t mind. It turns me from a bossy and clingy sister into a well-behaved elder sister to a girl who is more and more of a mind to grow up faster. Besides, I bribe her in tons of little ways just so she won’t think of me as her caretaker during these required little walks.

As we walk and talk, I pass her the little container wordlessly. Her expression that betrays the defied expectations is quite amusing as she finds it isn’t a yoghurt or other container, but she does give me a suspicious eye.

“So, what’s on your mind? People other than me are going to pry if you don’t stop putting wrinkles on your face by scowling so intensely all the time.”

I am the Empress of Distractiony Tactics as she just sighs and digs her spoon into the jelly, curving out a little cylindrical pyramid before starting to talk.

“Dad said something, and I’m not sure what to think. It just sucks.”

She’s being really vague, and I sigh as I take a bite from my own jelly. Ugh. So artificially sweet and gel-like.

“I think things and have thoughts too, you know.”

Setty’s confusion quickly makes way for annoyance before she gives me a playful shove. “Meanie.” she laughs before shoveling another bite of jelly into her mouth.

“Dad mentioned his wish to reunite the family again.”

The fact the pavement isn’t exactly even is one of the contributing factors in me nearly stumbling, but frankly, it is the statement that comes to mind most.

“Wait. What??”

I blurt out my thoughts before peering at her.

“I know, right?” she groans. “I don’t want to change my life around _again_. Even if I get to live with Nii-san again, I’d feel like I’d lose you in the process.”

She gives me a look. That really sweet look. But I finally realize it might just be a bit of a smartypants look, too. As if she knows how much I care for her.

Well. Duh. Of course she does.

“Then don’t?”

My answer is as simple as it is crude; aren’t I asking her to forsake her Nii-san? Fuck. This is going to cost me Setty brownie points.

“But he’s my _dad_. Do I even get to decide? Hell. It’s a shitty decision. A mean prank by God. The fake parents I’ve got and don’t really love, or the promise of a dad who will make me think of mom being in heaven each time I see him!”

Wow. That’s one vehement counter; the tears spring out and run down her cheeks in the heat of the emotions suffered. I wrap my free arm around her, pulling her closer and using the spoon in my hand to boop her nose.

“Fuck me if I know.”

I squeeze her upper arm gently before continuing to somehow make a somewhat comforting statement she won’t call out as me treating her like a little kid the way her dad does.

“You can’t make the decision. You are a little kid.”

She wants to grumble, but I silence her with the spoon by pressing it on her lips.

“Shush a sec. It is a fact. You are underage and you don’t know what you want. That’s not what you think, but that’s what a judge will have to think if it ever comes to interpreting the law.”

She slumps a bit and sucks my spoon into her mouth, pulling it away like a spoiled little brat wanting to get her way. Heh.

“It is a balance between your needs as a kid and the letter of the law. So while you can’t decide, you can probably influence things. You just need to make it clear what you want, and why that is the best.”

She groans in protest, which allows me to take back my spoon. Ugh. Slimey Setty saliva is all over it.

“So I’m still stuck having to figure out the worst of two disappointing alternatives?” she complains, at which point I see it as my right to wipe my spoon on her forehead. Take that!

“Ewww!” Setty dodges a bit but is - unfortunately for her - still stuck in my loving embrace, and as a consequence the drool is spread out nice and evenly with almost none of it remaining on the spoon itself.

“Then don’t drool all over my spoon!” I laugh at her self-inflicted misfortune while she rubs her head, showing the most lighthearted smile I’ve seen her smile all week.

“You’re so mean! Stupid jellybelly!” she counters with a laugh of her own.

I put on my most mysterious face. “If I am so stupid, I’m not going to share my wisdom and mysterious insights into life with you.” I add mock-threateningly, and the unabashed curiousity that flares up in her eyes is enough to make me relent my plan to tease.

“Fine fine. There’s a saying. ‘Possession is nine-tenths of the law.’ You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?” I inquire of her, and she nods after a moments worth of contemplative staring at her jelly.

“Well then. Just make sure you are in the ‘possession’ of whatever side you want to win. Maybe the courts decision will follow what is already there, huh?”

I offer her a lighthearted wink as we arrive in front of the entrance to Pin & Play, and she offers it back happily before opening the door.

“Cassandra! Come see what I dragged along with me!” She greets the person she is visiting with considerably lighter countenance, whereas my own darkens a bit.

Since when was she the one to drag me along? I could have sworn I was the one to pick her up from her classroom…


	37. Life Experiences

## 37\. Life Experiences

11 April 2012, escaping from the Lionheart Theatre

This was the worst. The worst of the worst. Never have I been this glad to find our practice ending.

What kind of perverted drama teacher did they put in charge here, anyways?

I dash out of the theatre with my bag slung over my shoulder and find the shortest route to the nearby bus. With a bit of luck, it is still here. My pace quickens a bit at the thought, but I won’t run. The soft chattering behind me holds the gravitas of a stampeding herd of wildebeest like in the Lion King, but if they’ll smell blood, they’ll turn into hyenas!

Frankly speaking, I think I’m in luck that Miss Meadows is letting me come back by bus. Having her pick me up would just turn this into a tragedy.

Sweet, the bus is still there. The little sprint I make catches the drivers attention just well enough to that I can still make it in and quickly buy a ticket before we leave.

I find a spot, and the bus accelerates rather briskly. Ah. The time. It is already a bit delayed, no wonder. We zoom by the herd, and I can see some of them waving and winking and making exaggerated little kissy faces. Ugh.

“You looked like you just escaped the train to Auschwitz.”

The sudden voice of the elderly man in the seat on the other side of the aisle drags me out of my thoughts. I offer him a sore smile. “I did.” I respond gravely, drawing on my paltry acting experience. “Although I feel more like Simba in the Lion King escaping that stampeding herd.”

The guy guffaws heartily, but it soon sets off a cough that allows me to study him a bit more. His face is wrinkly as is typical for someone his age, but he appears very neat with all the buttons on his blazer neatly closed and the cufflinks making him appear like one of those old-fashioned gentlemen. The hat resting on his lap with the cane between his legs finish the picture. He must have witnessed the war, if a comparison with jews leaving to the concentration camps is the one he thinks of.

“Typically it is my teacher that picks me up, but the fact she doesn’t means I dodged the train you spoke of. You know what those motherly types are like, right?”

I find myself caught offguard by the fact I’m volunteering so much about myself. Yeah. This is probably what happens when things click. He’s the likeable sort of grandpa, after all.

“Oh. Do I eeeever.” he responds with a hearty disposition and playful wink. “I think I understand. After all, at your age, there’s only two things that can make you feel that panicked.” My heart jumps in place, but I mentally try to silence the beating that I have gotten rather aware of due to his teasing comment as I tilt my head at him, playing it cool.

“You either got a girl you like, or there’s a girl that likes you.”

Crap. I can’t control my cheeks from betraying it, even if I keep it calm. It seems he isn’t done yet, though.

“But you mentioned a stampede, which implies a chase. So I think it is the latter more-so than the former. And there might be two girls, friend of sorts?”

He offers my this conspirational vibe, but he is clearly just having a bit of lighthearted fun. As I realize this, I remember he is a stranger, so what is there to be embarassed about?

“Eh.. make it half a dozen girls. And they’re just liking me in the way you like food. It’s nothing meaningful.”

He guffaws again, but at least there’s no coughing fit this time. “Ahaha. That is spoken like a true boy your age.” Had dad said something like that, I’d have felt the urge to punch him rising, but this old pops? He somehow gets away with it, my lips contorting into a grin.

“We’re in a theatre group together.” I decide to start explaining the story a bit. The change of mind is welcome, after all. “Girls are overrepresented, and this holds some unfortunate outcomes in regards as to the priorities of our instructor. Which is kind of stupid in my eyes; instead of trying to appeal to boys like me to try and even things out, they just focus on what the majority wants. It’s so stupid.”

The man glances at my thoughtfully throughout my explanation, offering a few headbobs of understanding here and there.

“So with this many girls in our group, you can imagine the instructor went for the low-hanging fruit of focusing on romantic scenes to bolster their enthusiasm. Ugh. Whatever. It needs to happen some day, right? The problem is that they all want me as their partner, and when that doesn’t cause them to fight, it definitely means they love to take every little liberty they can. Ugh. Girls!”

He snorts again, trying to suppress his giggles at my expense. I find myself snorting, too. Neither of us needs to speak, and although he probably finds it funny because he’s got a few more years on me and thinks of it differently, I mostly just enjoy the opportunity to rant about this dilemma of mine and connect with someone who can at least pretend to understand. The fact that somewhere behind us there’s someone else eavesdropping who fails to keep sufficiently silent just makes me feel like I’m in a bus of like-minded peers. It’s kind of blissful for as far feelings go, actually.

I see grandpa reaching for his button, so we’re probably coming up to his stop. That’s a bummer. Why do good things have to end so quickly? I better get to the point and wrap the story up a bit; I’d hate to leave him hanging. ‘That’s not how stories go’, Setsuka admonished me once or twice, and it stuck with me.

“But that’s not the worst of it. You see, they all advocated for practicing kisses, because they deem those very important. Thankfully for me, the teacher isn’t quite that stupid, so she said we could as long as they are going to be mature about it.”

I pause a moment for dramatic effect, but I fear the shit-eating grin may be slipping on my features. “So what did she do? She said it wasn’t efficient for everyone to choose partners or to let the few guys have to practice with so many different girls, so she said she’ll make pairings next time. And whatever exercises we do then, we’ll all do twice: once in the role of a boy, once in the role of a girl. For the sake of,” I add some gravitas to my voice before laughing, “‘your growth as actors’.”

The bus comes to a sliding stop, and I see the old man move to get up, but he struggles a bit since I apparently got him stuck in a good fit of laughter. I quickly stand up and offer him a helping hand to lean on, being the culprit that has put him into this state. Incidentally, it has also caused the driver to throw a frustrated glance in our direction through his mirror.

“Well, it sounds like your teacher is a pretty tough cookie.” he offers as he catches his breath a bit. “She definitely is.” I agree with him as I help him towards the door.

“She is. But I might just skip the next practice; I’m not really comfortable with everything that might happen.” I confide in him.

Right as he is about to step out of the bus, he shakes his head. “Nonsense, kid. You’ll go. Do you know how many men there are that dream of a free ticket to feel up cute girls? You’re not a man if you run from that.”

He turns around and finally gets out of the bus, and the doors begin to close almost instantly after, a clear sign of the annoyance of the bus driver.

“It’s Cain.” I quickly call out as an introduction, and he flashes me a thumbsup since the doors close just too quickly.

Mom always stressed the importance of good manners. So it is only right to introduce yourself, even if it is right before parting. A proper grandpa like this man deserves at least that much respect.

The bus starts moving, and I stumble a bit as I move to the closest free seat.

Pops has a point. A man who runs… is not a man at all.

I should not become a man that runs. Not like him.


	38. Spoonfeeding

## 38\. Spoonfeeding

27 April 2012, at the recuperation facility associated with the Victoria Hospital

Crap. I’m choking. Dear God, is this woman trying to kill me?!

Thankfully, nurse Eyeliner catches on and moves to pat my back before offering me some water. Sure, drowning is a good alternative to choking. That makes sense! But definitely… FORGET ALL ABOUT THE DAMN STRAW THAT IS RESTING BESIDES THE CUP…!

… I would have done the exact same if my cushy gig on a coma ward ended up turning into being someones personal wetnurse!

“Please… more no.”

I plead, searching for breath and sanity inside the foggy recesses of my mind. Life is hard as a recovering coma patient.

Life is hard as a recovering alcoholic, too.

But I’d rather not identify as that, either. I can’t deny the first, but I haven’t had a drop for nearly two years… so I’m technically sober now, right?

“Okay. So we go to physical therapy again..?”

She sounds as if she is asking, but really, I can tell she is just announcing it. The doctor made the schedule. I am only along for the ride, stuck on this wheelchair while nurse Eyeliner drags me everywhere.

“Geez. You’ve really got a full schedule, Mr. Hatori. First you had the reflex tests, then you had your blood drawn, now we barely had time for lunch and yet we are already off to the next place. You must be excited to still be alive, huh? That’s great!”

Hell. It is hell. Not… that.

“Hell.”

She frowns, clacking her tongue but choosing not to admonish me. Is she berating me for… ooh. That’s a flirty word, right?

“It’s.. my name. Hell. Not Hatori.”

“Well, that isn’t what your paperwork says. See? Hatori. H. A. T. O-.”

“YES. HATORI.”

I groan at her in what was supposed to be a yell. “I mean, no. Not that. But yes, no. That.”

Bah. Words. Why words.

“My… call change.”

“We don’t have a payphone. They’ve been phasing those out. But I’m glad to help you make a call, like Tina does for you sometimes..?”

She’s the sweetest piece of caked-on mannequin with maybe a degree. CAN’T SHE JUST SENSE ME TO MAKE?

“No no no NO. Name! … After marry. New life… bad meaning.”

Ugh. I swear I’m getting more stupid with the sentence. Probably the…

“Okay. Break. Time-out.” She seems to have caught on, and our wandering through the corridors to the pastor.. wait, no. Not a pastor. Ugh. Running guy. That one. We stop for a bit.

She comes to stand in front of me, and I can look her in the eyes now. Moving my neck is still a huge pain in the groin, so in a way, these are the best moments of my day. Getting to really stare a lady in the eyes. She’s not the worst-looking nurse in the building. Nice and fit, at the very least.

“Take a breath, Mr. Hatori.”

“.. Hell.”

“I prefer the former, if you don’t mind.” She lifts up a little cross from underneath her medical garb. Oh. She’s religious. Why’s that matter?

“I donnn’t get it. Hell. Not hell.”

She peers me down, no doubt thinking I’m losing it. Hell, so am I.

“Hell? Really?” She seems to doubt me. “Can you spell it for me, please?”

I sigh. Audibly. Please brain, don’t fail me now.

“H as in hot. E as in… eyeliner. Another E… because you’ve got two of ’m eyes. And the L.. of l-love.”

She chuckles amicably. “Oh. Heel. Like the back of your foot.” she says, smiling and offering me a bit of a wink. “Well, as I said, it isn’t what your paperwork says. Did you perhaps not notify your insurance of the name change?” There’s even that familiar pat on the knee. Are you in the right line of work, cakeface?

How the fuck would I know, lady? Probably not. Potato tomato. It wasn’t that big of a deal at the time!

“Probably not, huh?”

I respond with a fake smile, trying to utter a laugh but soon finding that takes effort I should probably save for my upcoming therapy.

“Well, don’t worry. You’re going to get a headache getting insurance to pay for all your treatment, but if you’ve got the paperwork.. well, you probably don’t. But the government should have the paperwork somewhere, so you can always request it through those means to prove you are you if the insurance companies try to cheat you out of your premiums.”

I snort. “Yes. They do.” I have to agree.

“That said, they probably know of your issues to some degree. They can’t pay your hospital bills for two years without stumbling across that issue, and somehow somewhere, it must’ve been paid. You ought to get in touch with the person who was court-appointed to mind your affairs, unless you had a will that set up someone with the power of attorney for these matters?”

Silently, I shake my head before eventually mumbling.

“… Just Matilda.”

“Don’t worry. I am sure there’s some people who can help you figure out all of those details. Tina and I would be glad to make some calls to help you figure things out.”

“Uh.. please, I guess. At least to.. to that point. That attorney… plant could help me. Help me get things back to how they were, right?”

She tries not to giggle, but I notice. I messed something up again, I think.

“Because I really, really want to start getting my kids home. Live with them again. Like before. Cute lil’ Setsuka… who isn’t quite so lil’ anymore. Hehe. And that stubborn… troublemaking son of mine. They need their dad, you know?”

Nurse Eyeliner gives me a sweet smile as I talk about the kids, patting me on the shoulder before starting to push my wheelchair once more.

“You’ll get them back. No worries.”

Those words sound so patronizing. Couldn’t she have looked me in the face while making such a bold statement? That was obviously a truth.

… Lie. A lie. Dammit.


	39. Anti-Anticipation Relief

## 39\. Anti-Anticipation Relief

3 May 2012, around the kitchen table

We’re sitting around the table. Clara is looking at me, the book she was reading closed in front of her. Chris is giving me that supportive stare that betrays he intends to push me off into some deep unknown where he’ll rescue me but wants to try and make me rescue myself, first.

Of course, neither of those two worry me. What does worry me is something else.

I shift in my seat. The silence is deafening; the fact neither telly nor radio is on only exacerbates the feelings. Actually, I’m more comfortable with my arms folded over one another. Play it cool. Why is it so cold in the house, anyway?

“We have something we need to tell you, Setsuka.”

Oh dear. Here it comes.

I knew it would be something like this.

There’s no other reason to have a family gathering meeting where they purposefully throw Jenny out of the house for an hour with some half-baked excuse of needing her to bring old clothes to cousin Lara who is expecting a baby.

Nope. Soooo not buying that.

Clara’s sitting up straighter. Yes. Here it comes. Here it–

“Your father has petitioned the courts to return you to his custody.”

Boom. There we go.

I find the news I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear does not have nearly as much of a killer impact as I would have thought. Is it because I’ve been expecting it?

Slowly, I allow a breath to escape me.

“So? Dad told me wanted to reunite the family some time ago.”

It is now that I see them frown and exchange glances; as if I gave them a response they didn’t quite expect. What’d they expect? Me bawling? Screaming? Being happy?

I bet they didn’t expect my poker face of apathy. Practicing in the mirror did pay off!

Take that, you fake ones!

“We have the option of contesting it with a petition of our own…”

Chris is a good guy; I can tell he is shifting away the brunt of the stress my uncaring response has given Clara by taking the lead in the conversation. They are like footie players, doing this endless play where they pass the ball around like a hot potato.

Thank you Jenny for this scoop. I owe you so much!

“… So?”

I need to make really clear that if there’s something they want from this conversation, they need to be obvious about it. Jenny kept saying this, even though at the same time, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.

My jaw clenches as I reaffirm my resolve. Trust in Nee-san. All the way to the end of this conversation.

“Do you have any questions? Worries?”

See? Clara again. The potato is bouncing around invisibly above this dining table.

I meet Clara’s eyes again, my fingers lifting up and taking away some free strands of hair and tucking them behind my ear in a motion of habit. Now there’s nothing blocking my gaze. Fear it, Clara-monster.

Just a hint of a smile slips onto my features as I remember laughing at how much that nickname a frustrated Nee-san came up with suits her.

“What I want doesn’t matter, right?”

No pass this time. “Of course it does!” Clara calls out.

“So if I say I want to live with dad, I get to live with dad?”

Silence. They exchange gazes again.

I move to stand up. That silence said it all.

“Sit down, young lady. We’re not done.”

Chris speaks up as the potato naturally lands in his lap once more. He tries to sound authoritative, but it is honestly a bit funny. There’s none of that father-figure-alike reliability he usually tries to smother me with.

I sigh. Exaggeratedly. To let them hear the frustration on my end.

“We will contest it.”

Chris seems more reliable now, not passing the potato back to Clara like that. How sweet of him.

“Okay.”

My simple response seems to make Clara want to flare up, but the way Chris puts his hand on hers is actually a bit touching. Would Nii-san…? If I…?

Focus. Don’t be distracted now, you silly dumdum!

“It isn’t because we want to keep you away from your father. But we believe it is too early for him to worry about the two of you.”

Wait. Two of you?

“Nii-san is going to live with him?”

Clara nods as she finally takes responsibility for the metaphorical blisters appearing on Chris’ fingertips.

“Probably. He is no doubt also petitioning for his custody. Because Cain lacks stable living arrangements right now, and because he is older than you, it is far more likely to go through.”

My eyes narrow and my artifical slackface falters with the appearance of this emotion, the mere change causing tension to disappear on the side of my opponents. This is a scoop Nee-san didn’t tell me about. Damn it!

I guess she’s not an omnipotent redhaired Goddess of Future-Scrying after all.

It is up to me. I am not alone. Even if at this table, I sit alone, that is not who I am. Nee-san will be there when she comes back. Nii-san will no doubt call, too.

“So you are conspiring to keep me away from Nii-san again?”

The hurt and betrayal in my voice is akin to a freshly scabbed wound being once more torn open, and I find the room blurring just a little bit

“Love, it isn’t that. We worry about your well-being.”

Clara reaches over to try and comfort me, but I pull my hands back out of her reach. Fucking traitors!

“So let Nii-san live with us instead..!”

My response is a vehement bite-back, like a wild animal that needs to be put down. I don’t care.

“You are being unreasonable now, Setsuka!”

Chris calls out, clearly not happy with my behaviour. Screw him.

“So what if I am? You wouldn’t accept him then, and you won’t accept him now. But you will do everything you can to stop me living with him!”

“It isn’t like that! Do you think we have better odds than his biological father to provide for him? The judge would laugh us out of the room!”

I glare at Clara. “LIAR! You are trying to keep me here!”

They exchange a momentary glance again - it is creepy how they keep knowing how to time that stuff - before Chris speaks up, trying to regain that earlier calm as the responsible parental figure.

“You already live here, love. You’ve lived here for two whole years! It is completely different.”

My hand slams down at the table as the emotions build up into an eruption, startling myself as much as I intended to startle them. Clara’s book bounces up and loses touch with the table for just a moment: that is the only other visual giveaway of the forces involved, the foremost one being how red my hand is quickly becoming.

“SO WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

My cry is of anguish as much of it is of anger.

“To thank you for fighting for me? To be happy and feel loved like I am some sort of perfect daughter you’d like me to be? To just hurt me a bit more as if you were pulling off my nails to remind me you can torture me all you’d like?”

They are silent again. I can see Clara attempt to blink away some tears, not wanting to show her weakness in front of me.

“See? You just want to feel good about yourselves! Well, aren’t you lucky! The law has made me your plaything, to drag from one side of the doll house to the other! Aren’t you all mighty, fine, strong, brave and admirable ADULTS!”

Look at me! I am in control here! Just. This. Once!

Then… I rush off towards my room, tears running down my cheeks as I do. This time, not even Chris thinks of stopping me.


	40. The Last Time

## 40\. The Last Time

19 May 2012, in a shuttle bus with the riot

‘Jenny, can’t you smile? Come on.’

‘Relax. We’ll get our hands on some good beer, and we’ll make this a good day!’

‘No worries, today’s gonna be great!’

That is what they all said when they picked us up. But despite their smiles, I am not quite feeling it.

Ann, Vera and Kathleen are great friends. They were even thoughtful enough to invite Setty along as we go to visit the Alton Towers amusement park.

I’ve been dying to go there, frankly. To celebrate my birthday? That’s supposed to be the best birthday ever!

… But knowing that Setty may be back with her brother next year around this time? I don’t want to lose my sister to that legal version of mud wrestling!

Setty is looking at me now, her smile as awkward as my own. We’re probably not all that far removed in our thoughts, even if hers are going to be focused on the world not letting things be as they were in the past.

“Fuckin’ hell. What’s with the damn mood, sisters?”

Ann is speaking up in her typical gruff way; she’s a woman without delicacy and plenty of rough edges to make up for it. Her trademark green spikey hair isn’t the smallest thing of note in that regard, even if it is the most obvious.

Well, it shouldn’t come as a surprise given that we initially met in a holding cell several years back; me for claims I’d like to say were without substance and her for relieving her stress on her entire families motor vehicles during her moms birthday party.

I’ve been told she mellowed out a bit though, so I’m going to assume and hope that is not going to repeat.

“Shut yer claptrap, Ann. We’ve got a minor here to mind.”

“Are any of you eighteen? No? Well, you are also minors!” Setty responds rather quickly. Hearing the strain in her voice, I realize. Fuck. If she were an adult, she wouldn’t be in this position, right?

“I get it, Setty.” I say whilst offering a small smile to her before looking at the other girls in apology. “I’m sorry. Trouble behind closed doors, ya know? Thanks for setting this up.” As I try to preserve the peace, I realize I might as well be a bit more of a Nee-san to her while I can. “From _both_ of us.”

Setty smiles awkwardly, nodding quickly. “Thank you.” she offers, her voice still a bit hollow but at least the pleasantries have been observed.

“No worries. It isn’t as if we were born with a fancy spoons in our mouth. Just make sure you get drunk with us later; no need to stay sober with the miracle that is public transport.”

I shift my eyes to the minorest minor of the lot, trying to emphasize.

“We’ll get her.. apple juice. Or orange juice if she prefers.”

“No way. Just let me have a sip or two! Or three!”

Here comes the universal sibling whine of being offended over nothing. Everyone with siblings knows it. It is the most annoying thing.

Actually, I can’t even be mad. She’s going through a lot. The sigh escapes me before I even realize.

“They made me promise, Setty. You could only come if I was going to be responsible.”

She wrinkles her nose in that cute way, while giving me those eyes of utter vulnerability. Fuck you, Setty! That’s so unfair.

“Maybe one sip. If you behave well until the end of the day.” I relent a little, but the damage is done: our sisterly exchange has the three other girls choking on their spittle from trying to hold back their laughter.

It isn’t long before we finally get out of the bus. Vera bought the tickets online, so we can quickly move into the park and move on to having a great day.

Rollercoasters!

Boy watching! And grading them based on their muscles.. or should I say belly? And of course the jawline and gaze! Turns out Vera’s got the hots for glasses guys; she consistently graded their looks a full point higher than us.

The Magical Boat Ride!

Ice cream whilst catcalling the cute guys that come by. Those looks on their faces… amazing. As if they never experienced it before.

More rollercoasters! And then the resulting queasiness because you don’t do that right after eating ice cream…

Oh, Setty is going to loooove this last one. The Haunted House!

Her screams were so utterly pure and adorable. I wish I could make her go in a second and a third time, but there is no way she’d respond that cutely again. She’d already know the scares that are coming, after all.

Sigh. I hope Cain won’t blame me for stealing her scaredy-cherry from her.

I egg on Setty for being a scaredy-puss a bit together with Ann while Vera and Kathleen are in the front, leading the way. Their conversation has moved towards the size of the boys package, and perhaps a bit too loudly discussing their worth based on whatever nonsense factors they come up with.

Wasn’t it Vera who was complaining to Ann before that she had to mind the minor among us? The irony is not lost upon me…

… nor is it on security. Why are there a bunch of bored-looking muscleheads approaching them? And us, it turns out, as I see in the corner from my eyes.

Fuck, what did we do? Did Ann key any cars I’m not aware of? Did Vera do something while flirting with the icecream guy?


	41. The First Time

## 41\. The First Time

19 May 2012, outside of Alton Towers

Jenny always said her friends were a riot.

I never quite understood what she meant.

But getting kicked out of THE Alton Towers when the clock isn’t even pointed to ‘two’ yet… that just.. wow.

Worst, I don’t even know if I am insulted.. or just greatly entertained by it all.

Mind you, I’m sick of rollercoasters; the last one nearly made me throw up, so I am not upset we were thrown out. More… I don’t know. It feels like a waste of a good birthday, right?

If Clara goes to ask what we did today, are we going to have to cop out on nearly ending up in jail for sexual assault?

Screw it, that makes it a good birthday, right? All in for the fond memories!

Frankly, I think this ‘riot’ owes me a gigantic debt of gratitude. And they know it, judging by their relieved expressions as we’re sitting on a bus back to the station rather than in the back of a police van for some sort of intake involving our parents. Or fake parents.

“Okay. Who the fuck thought I’d like to spend my birthday in jail?”

Wow. Jellybelly is pissed. I’m grinning. She’s always watching her words around me, kind of like Nii-san tends to do to the point where I don’t even know what he’s like anymore when he isn’t playing with me.

The nearly-adults are now having a staring contest. Then Nee-san starts to drop names.

“Vera?” The blonde raises her hands up in defense, shaking her head. “Fuck no, J. I was the one to call out for maintaining a bit of decorum this morning, wasn’t I?”

The staredown with Vera intensifies. “You were also the one discussing you-know-what right before we got picked up.” she reminds the girl, who flushes red as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar. What the hell did I miss? Damn it!

“Ann?” This one just meets Nee-san’s eyes in an almost calm manner. “You need to ask?”

“Only to make sure Kathleen wasn’t going to talk her way out of it.” Nee-san responds, and I find my eyes almost pop out. What the hell did I miss this time?!

The diminutive wallflower of the group is conspicuously looking out of the window. Ah. That’s what I missed, I guess.

You tend to forget she’s even here.

Nee-san is a goddess for as far guys are concerned: they flock to her like bees to flowery nectar as there’s just that little to complain about. Vera is much the same, having a decently cute build without too much of the English fudge attached, just like Nee-san but with a slightly plain face. Sorry Vera, but it is true: the half-lidded eyes look of perpetual dozing is simply lacking. Still, she and Nee-san have probably traded wardrobe contents on more than one occasion.

Ann is Ann. Loud. Obnoxious. Hard to forget with that neon-green spikey hair that resembles a guy more than a girl. But she’s got a good heart, I think.

And then there’s Kathleen. She’s silent most of the time. Nee-san told me before she’s like that around most people she doesn’t know well, so I guess I’m the one at fault here?

Wait. I wasn’t the one to commit sexual assault!

She finally looks over, offering a tightlipped smile. “Sorry.”

Jenny now bursts out in anger. “You fucking think that will fucking cover the shit you nearly got us stuck in, you harridan frump?!”

Harridan frump? That’s two insults for the price for one. Can you even adjectify harridan? Hmm. Well, I’ll have to remember it regardless. Nee-san’s amazing at this!

Kathleen seems to nearly start crying as she shakes her head, pulling in shuddering breaths which pisses Nee-san off even more as she points towards me. “See that there? THAT can pull off tears a hundred times worse than yours. Shelve the pity tears. There’s no balls in this room!”

“Tche.” Kathleen, almost as if switching gears instantly, lets out a grunt of annoyance. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think they’d know who did it if I just copped a feel in the darkness.”

Wow. An outright admission. WOW!

Nee-san rolls her eyes as she grabs the girls mousey-brown hair, pulling on it. “You never, ever fucking embroil Setty in your shit again, got it? She was lying for your sake. Apologize. Fucking. NOW.”

What follows is, without a doubt, the most earnest words I’ve seen coming from Kathleen in all the time I’ve known her, which is pretty much today if we ignore the casual nod of greeting in the past.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was an idiot.”

I smile back at the woman. “It’s fine.” I respond easily. It is. It was a lot of fun. Imagine what Nii-san would say, ha!

“Besides, I didn’t know it was you. All I did was.. well, remember something Jell.. Jenny told me a few weeks ago.”

At this, Jenny gives me a weird expression, clearly not knowing what I am talking about. I sigh, blowing out air in mock-frustration that makes some wayward strands of hair bounce in front of my face.

“‘What you don’t tell them can’t come back to hurt you.’” I quote the Jenny from a few weeks ago, and she smiles in remembrance. “Ah.” she agrees, nodding.

A silence falls, and I might as well keep talking in a Holmes-esque manner.

“So yeah. I knew it wasn’t Jenny because she kept bugging me all the time, and Ann kept poking me with her fingers whenever I’d least expect it.. but I didn’t know anything beyond that. Still, it wasn’t much of an untruth to say all of you were obsessed with adding to my Haunted House experience…”

Awkward chuckles happen as the sisterhood exchanges glances with eachother. It must be embarrassing, having a ten-year-old girl save your sixteen-something bums out of the proverbial fire.

The silence lasts even as we make it out of the bus and back into proper society.

In the end, it is Jenny that clears up her throat and the air at the same time. “Well, it is still my birthday. I’m not going home this early in the day; I said I’d be back around 8, so we’ve got a couple of hours left to burn.”

In unison, the near-adults offer up ‘clubbing’.. but Jenny is the one who torpedoes it. It is too early, and there’s no way I can join them. They all become sad… until Kathleen comes up with an alternative. She must feel a bit bad, after all.

“Let’s just find a pub and a pack of cards. We’ll play some card games. Have you ever played spoons, Setsuka? Or Old maid?”

First I shake my head at the former suggestion, but nod at the second. “I’ve played Old Maid with Nii-san once.” The smile on my face probably betrays that it is a fond memory.

Ann rolls her eyes. “Why not just teach her poker? The younger, the better.”

Vera is quick to intercede. “You think she’s got money to play with? She may have some pocket money, but that’s not for gambling, grasshead.”

Laughter bursts out as I hear that nickname for the first time. So fitting!

“She can play for.. I dunno, make-believe money. She saved our asses, we can just be her wallet, right?” Clearly, Ann isn’t willing to drop the idea of gambling that easily. Honestly, it does sound a bit exciting.

I realize a second or two late that she was staring at Kathleen.

“Fine fine. I’ll be her little piggybank. I owe her at least that much.”

Sweet! I can’t help but laugh. Playing with other peoples money; I bet Nee-san has done that in the past, too.

With that, it is settled, and we move to find a pub that looks upright enough to where we feel safe, yet seedy enough to where they won’t fuss over someone my age playing poker.

Apparently it is an adult game, not meant for kids.

I offer Kathleen a conspirational smile, feeling just a bit emboldened by her helping me out. “So what does a guys junk feel like?”

An upset gasp fills the air. “SETTY!”


	42. Action Begets Reaction

## 42\. Action Begets Reaction

11 June 2012, out on the street

God, it feels great to be out of the hospital!

The world hasn’t changed much: the sun still shines behind the gray clouds of Britain, people still drive like assholes, the footpaths remain terrible and my instinct to find the nearest pub is still as accurate as it has ever been.

Second street to the right.

Which is why I am not going there on my walk.

Well, walk. More of a stroll. Emphasis on ‘roll’. Ah.

Cain will punch me for that one and be in the right for it.

Anyway. As I was thinking: it is great to be a free man. Ish.

Honestly, I don’t like the wheelchair bit of it. Never will, but I’ll hopefully get to leave it - which seems rather likely given my steady rate of improvement in building muscle mass and relearning the basic movements that keep me from slamming into cups and doorways like a drunk toddler.

Nope. Not going there.

So what puts this wheelchair apart from the last wheelchairs I used? It runs on my own arm power. No more fussy nurse Eyeliner or nurse Muffin that needs to push me around while making the most terrible conversation that so unsubtly avoids the topic of Matilda that it is all I can think about.

The problem though is.. that it runs on my own arm power.

I’ve passed… I think five streets in the last hour. Ugh. I should have turned around earlier. Apparently building muscle mass and building stamina are not the same thing at all.

So now I’m sitting here, catching my breath as much as my arm muscles. Looking at the most wonderful case of chav-inspired gardening: several mismatched garden tiles, some dead bushes that probably died a few winters ago, and the trash can that just stands in the garden because hey, there’s this shitty eighties Volkswagen Beetle that needs to be in the driveway.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own distillery in their basement. You never know with people like those.

Some movement shows in the window. Ah. I probably should move on. Short fuses and all. Or easy friends. Frankly, I can’t afford a beating, and can afford an invitation to join them for a drink even less-so.

I swivel around - left hand back, right hand forwards - and start my trip back, making sure to pace myself in a leisurely roll.

Oh. A roll. That implies going downhill. Wait.. I was going uphill before, wasn’t I?

Atari maida! What a relief!!

I’m not nearly as pathetic as I thought! That would have been at least a dozen side streets on level terrain, right? Not bad at all, not bad at a—

Suddenly, I feel as if I lost what little weight I’ve got left while the world slows down around me. My weight shifts towards the right, and I can only barely do the math of this being really bad.

When I was at my best, I couldn’t even do a wheelie with two wheels placed behind eachother, nevermind this parallel balancing act of doom!

Why is there a pothole there in the first place?

Why didn’t I notice it when I came by earlier?

WHY AM I WORRIED ABOUT IT WHEN I SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT HEADING RIGHT TOWARDS THAT CAR THAT IS HONKING LIKE A FUCKING MANIAC?!

Right as I fear I’ll go through the windshield using my own accumulated momentum, there’s my saving grace with none of the graceful bits.

Having a hard helm deposited in your face by your saviour hurts like hell, I’ll have me know now. Fuck. But it is effective; I feel my momentum being brought to a near complete stop, my body more effectively leaving this deathtrap vehicle of mine to literally end up in the arms of…

… an angel.

Fuck God, I didn’t even have a chance to have a drink, and I still remember bits of that tunnel I was in for two years.. I don’t want to go there now.

“That was close, sir. Are you alright?” comes the winded reply of my saviour. She sounds a bit like an angel, but in all honesty I think my brain isn’t working very well right now.

She on the other hand makes up for my speechlessness, rapidfiring syllables at a rate my brain isn’t doing too well as keeping up with. “Oh, of course you’re not. I’m so sorry, let me get you some tissues. I hope it isn’t broken?”

She babbles on a bit as I descend back onto this world.

Okay. Not an angel. Her hair isn’t anywhere nearly as neat. And she’s probably a bit too pudgy to match up with what I know angels to look like. Then again, isn’t that the movies, glamorizing anything? She could be an angel, I guess.

Don’t judge others based on appearances, Quinn. Matilda always looked for the best in others, so I should, too.

Then again, isn’t being an angel a really good thing? I guess being an angel and being thought of as a fake lookalike angel could be insulting, though…

Hmm, do angels hurt people? Because the way she’s stuffing that tissue onto my nose is giving me some really painful feelings.

“Omae.” I mumble, finding myself a bit winded and taking a deeper breath before vocalizing myself more adequately. “Stop stop stop. I can do that myself, you know.”

I finally utter those words as I lift my hand up to my nose and somehow take control over the tissue in question, and the smile on her lips seems to lose its tension. Was I quiet for that long? On second inspection, her cheeks seem to burn up in a red blush caused by whatever sprint she must have pulled to save my sorry Darwin-defying ass.

VooaaAAARRR. VoooaaRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

And there she goes. Turning around and giving a glare at the driver - I assume she does anyway, it is hard to tell with her looking away from me. Some inventive gestures finally make the car go around us whilst excessively revving their engine. The drivers look like chavs, but it is nice to see their driving confirm it.

“You should be more careful.”

She turns back to me and helps herself to my wheelchair; I’d fight it but I feel like I’ve lost the right to stand on stripes with regards to preserving my autonomous functioning right now.

“That pothole wasn’t there when I came by here before.”

I respond awkwardly as I nurse my nose, finding the nose to be considerably more wiggly than it is supposed to be. And more painful, too. Oh well. It’ll heal somehow. I’ve never heard of anyone losing their nose.

“Sure it was. It’s been there for at least the last two years. I’ve been patrolling here for at least that long, and chased a pickpocket over that exact same footpath back then. It was pretty rainy then, and I mistook the depth of the puddle, and nearly sprained my ankle in that very same pothole.”

I frown. I am sure it wasn’t there, though.

“I swear I’m not making excuses.”

She smiles just a little. “The streets all look alike. Mistakes happen. Where are you headed?”

As I explain the path to take - second right, go left at the end - she shakes her head.

“That’s where the motorway is. You must be a bit lost.”

Somehow, I find myself grumbling. It’s only five damn blocks. How mistaken can I possibly be?

“Fine. Glaston Recovery Center.”

I grumble out my answer, unwilling to admit being wrong since I am most obviously not.

“That would have been a left down the corner you passed back there, then another two blocks, a right and then to follow the curve in the road to behind the hedges…”

Ugh. I eye her, trying to figure out if she’s yanking my proverbial chain. The more I stare at her, the more I believe she is truthful. I don’t think a constable would joke like that in this situation.

A chav would, but chavs don’t wear those idiotic-looking hats.

Would I rather have a chav be the one to jump to my rescue? Chavs should have something that hits the spot.


	43. The Majestic Bird

## 43\. The Majestic Bird

14 June 2012, on the stage and behind the curtains

This is ridiculous.

Utterly ridiculous.

That’s all I manage to think as I disappear off the side of the stage again. Yeah, there is blondie again, this time having ‘helpfully’ moved the damn table with Colin’s things away from the privacy screen.

Do you REALLY think we will need the emergency exit right now, bitch? Do you really think I am not on to you?

Maybe she’s getting revenge, but they fucking started it.

Still, I just hurry off towards the the screen, already loosening the tie and glasses that I can get an early start on. The less of a show I can give these women, the better. Seventy fucking seconds. Lunacy!

“Don’t forget the cuffs.” she whispers as I pass her.

“Fuck off.” is my hushed reply to which she offers a muted giggle. See? She knows EXACTLY what she’s doing.

The tie I throw carelessly over the privacy screen. The glasses get a light toss towards the table; it isn’t like there’s actual lenses in them anyways. Then the jacket comes off, as do the pants. Hurry hurry, fifty seconds.

I allow them to crumple and fall on the floor. She wanted the spot as my wardrobe assistant, so she’s going to get to work hard for it. Stupid cow.

And now I’m left in my underwear. Yeah. I’ll get back at you for this, stupid cow.

I dart out quickly to the table to get the pink-dyed wig and pink shirt that are waiting for me there in a neatly folded fashion. This isn’t what I left the shirt looking like ten minutes ago at all.

She could make a decent housewife I suppose. Good job on one thing at least, blondie. For a moment I consider pulling the table closer to the privacy screen, but if the table screeches over the ground the entire theatre is going to hear it. Nope. Can’t risk that.

I dart back behind the privacy screen to get dressed in these shitty clothes.

After I have put the shirt on, it is time for the wig. Oh fuck, hairnet first. Damn. Where is it? Where??

“Hairnet!” I hiss.

“Left.” she replies calmly. Of course she doesn’t go out of her way to hand it to me. Damn this trollop.

I found it. Left corner of the table. Somewhat hidden underneath the pants. Of course they are. Probably to make sure I have to spend more time at the table to find it. It has been a while since I wanted to punch someone, but for it to be a girl is a first.

Quickly I dart out, and spot at least four girls glancing in my direction expectantly as I pick up the hairnet and dart back. Bitches, all of them. I quickly put the hairnet back on wig back on, I fucking hate this outfit even more. That damn hair just itches my neck.

While I dart out a few more times to pick up the rest of my costume, I cannot help but feel bamboozled.

My strong disagreements to being a cuddle and kissing practice puppet were finally received when I threatened I was going to quit over this damn one-sided treatment.

So in the end we aren’t doing a play where I have to kiss or be overly physical with any of these idiots. Which makes me quite happy, because I really did not want to do some stupid role where I have a cute wife and a hot secretary and some overly bubbly environmental activist lady living across the street. Fuck no.

I’d rather have quit or died than be subjected to such pulpy material for weeks on end!

So then they decided on this play instead. I’ve got four roles and need to change outfits a lot, courtesy of the lack of male members in our group. This is why the blondie exists to make my life miserable in this manner.

I just finished up as John, an elementary teacher with a slight drinking problem. The others are Pete the sad garbageman and Kevin the know-it-all, but they won’t appear again. So I don’t mind them. But Colin is by far the worst of them all.

“Twenty seconds. Hurry.”

Oh, shut up bitch. I know what I’m doing.

I finally slip into my new shoes, and my outfit is complete.

They are all waiting again. Of course they are. Some thumbs go up, there is a wink, and were it not for the requirement of silence and order, there’d be catcalling. I guarantee it.

“Looking hot, Mr. Pink.”

Blondie of course can’t help but to open her claptrap again. Of course she has to refer to the fact my biggest and shameful role tonight is to be a damn hippie dressed like a flamingo.

“Can’t say the same of you. Go clean.”

It is exactly the right time; I can see the director motioning me to hurry towards the stage, which allows me to ignore her hurt expression even more easily. Still, that felt good. Before I forget, I take the briefcase from the table and hurry along.

The lights fade and the last actor on the stage passes by me with a sympathetic smile. Then, I move onto the scene, passing by one of the few decent people in this production. He plays Carl.

These lines I am about to utter are still the most shameful of them all. I sigh gently, opening the door that stands on the set.

“Caaaa-aaaaa-aaaarl….! Are you hooo-oooome? I am soooo gooooing to rip your clothes off and maaa-aake your day into a starlit night where alllll those wishes of yours come true!”

I want to puke making those sounds with my own voice.

Setsuka begged me so many times to find a way for her to come watch me perform. I denied her at least a dozen times just the last time I saw her.

I’m sorry for saying no, but not sorry for not letting you.

Were you to see me play this gay flamingo role, then I’d really die of shame tonight.

Those fucking trollops!


	44. Old Habits

## 44\. Old Habits

26 June 2012, out on the sidewalk

As I walk back towards home on the sidewalk, I suddenly hear a honk. It startles me enough to the point where the gum I’m chewing nearly slips down my throat, but I recover quickly while moving to the side by instinct. A car shouldn’t even need to go on the sidewalk that I am on, but better safe than sorry. With all the speeding you see on this road every day, it is a healthy habit to be paranoid. I don’t think I’ll be kicking that habit any time soon.

It only dawns on me a few seconds later that it is Chris that is in the van. He is heading straight home from the job. “C’mere, lass.” he calls out after cranking the window open, and I nod with a smile before crossing the road and getting into the passenger seat. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you have some farm renovation project out in the boonies somewhere?” I inquire curiously after spending a few moments in that warm hug of his.

Sigh. As much as they betrayed Setty, I find it hard to take the hardliner stance that she has taken towards them. They are still mom and dad to me, and they mean well despite being stupid idiots where her brother is concerned.

His eyes meet mine as for a few moments, and I swear I can see something in them. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He responds as he presses the pedal down, and the van roars back to life and upto a decent speed.

Instantly, I feel my cheeks flush a little in shame; does he know?

“I know, young lady. You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?”

Momentarily, I roll my eyes at that mind-reading of his. He sucks at it most of the time with his lack of tact, until he hits the bullseye that just changes conversations around instantly. It is as hateful as it is admirable.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I said I wouldn’t anymore, bu-”

“You broke your promise.”

A groan escapes me, and I look back outside the window. Fuck. Locked in a metal box for a parental peptalk. He hit the bullseye alright.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

My words are but a weak offer of reconciliation, hoping he’ll just take the bait and the awkward ride home can move to either silence or more pleasant territory.

“Given the fact the Jeffrey hasn’t knocked on our door again, I’m going to hope that is the extent of your promise-breaking. Is it?”

But he knows, and doesn’t relent. Dammit dad.

I nod in silence, opting to just keep chewing my gum. And the silence carries as he shakes his head while driving. He in fact is so annoyed that I notice he misses the turn into our neighborhood. Now we’ll have to circle all the way around due to the one-way streets. Great. More time to spend with him in this metal box that smells like turpentine and acetone.

“I am very disappointed. What the _hell_ are you thinking?”

“You know as well as I do that it all sucks.” I counter as I look back at him.

He reaches in his pocket and produces a tissue. “Just spit it out and drop the wise-ass attitude.” he says as he holds it out, and I realize it isn’t worth the confrontation. The gum was over its prime, anyways.

“But it is not a solution, now is it?”

His response makes me grimace. Of course I know that.

“It just lets me deal with my frustration. I can’t do shit but sit on pins and needles together with her, you know?”

It is at this moment I realize I am being horribly defensive. Why am I so defensive about this? I’m not that ten-year-old picking pockets for the hell of it anymore!

He sighs, his hand extending and resting on my shoulder as he glances towards me for a few moments before putting his gaze back on the road before him.

“I know, love. But this is not the way you can be a responsible older sister to that girl, you know.”

“I know.”

My response is short and eclipsed with frustration. “I know.” I repeat.

“I know that damn well. And she doesn’t know. I’ve been careful. She won’t come to know, either.”

Hell, I don’t need her judging me or even worse, emulating me. She’s too cute for it, and I have a feeling that brother of hers might be really pissed off if she became the typical problem child that he and I are.

Hell, even Cain can be considered pretty innocent too, right? It was just a momentary lapse of anger that got him stuck in the system. Not like the lowlifes of society. Not like the ones that told me paying doesn’t matter if they don’t notice. Finders keepers. Losers weepers. Possession is nine-tenths of the law.

Right.

He sighs audibly, and my mind is drawn back to our conversation. I think he rambled a bit while my mind was on other things.

“Okay. You’re sixteen now. You’re not ten anymore, so I’m going to treat you like an adult. It needs to stop and you know it, but I think at this point, what I say won’t really change what ends up happening when I am not around, right?”

He is looking at me. I’m staying silent.

“I thought so.” He sighs audibly, shaking his head. “You stupid girl.” he mutters under his breath before continuing. “I’ll let your mom know, but let me be very clear: your little rebellion stays away from home. Be a good, caring sister to Setsuka, okay?”

My mind must have been wandering, looking at the muscled hunk on that motorcycle, so he slams his hand on the dash to startle me. He is successful, I startle and meet his eyes.

“Look at me. No bullshitting me.”

I nod, my eyes meeting his in as serious an expression as I can offer. “No bullshit.”

We finally end up back in the neighborhood again, and soon pull into a parking spot near the house. As I open the door and prepare to leave this awkward atmosphere, he grabs my arm.

“You better apologize to mom after I’ve had a chance to talk to her. Understood?”

Once more, I nod before pulling my hand free.

I hate it when these control freaks are right.


	45. Future's Dilemma

## 45\. Future’s Dilemma

10 July 2012, hanging out at Pin & Play

Cassandra and I have been doing a game lately.

Every time I visit, I cannot help but be reminded how skilled she is at drawing, exactly because of this game.

Take the picture of a M??bius strip that I came up with last week. I didn’t even know it had a name, nevermind such a difficult one at that point!

I tried really hard to make sure the light looked right on that weird shape, and I think it looked alright… although I wasn’t really happy with it. But as the game goes, she tries to improve on whatever I bring her while explaining all of her thinking.

What she did when she drew her version was to twist it so it looks like a sideways eight. She told me it means infinity. And it wasn’t solid, but had a bit of a bee-hive like pattern, which made the problem of the light and shadows into a totally different problem. Next, she sketched some ants walking on it while holding food, and it started to look like this endlessly marching army.

Suddenly, some really wacky shape I drew out of idle fascination after being inspired by handicrafts at school turned into this amazingly meaningful artwork about the meaning of life.

How amazing is that! She’s so talented!

Of course, Timothy did happen and told me that Cassandra cheated a bit, to which the latter chuckled awkwardly. Apparently the first person to come up with this idea was some Dutch artist called Escher nearly fifty years ago.

But that opened up a world of drawings I didn’t think were even a thing. God bless the internet! After that, I couldn’t help myself any longer and went straight for the library.

I spent some time at the library, looking around before taking a book that was actually dedicated to this guy and all the things he did. They were so limited!

He had to do this really weird process just to print out a second copy of his artwork.. because photocopiers apparently weren’t a thing yet.

But most gorgeous of all was all the things he did. All sorts of impossible things like walls becoming ceilings and triangles that aren’t really triangles and then birds becoming fish and.. wow.

He didn’t make the prettiest art.. but it was such smart art. Such weird out-of-the-way stuff. I really like it!

And now Cassandra is yelling at me.

“Haven’t I been telling you? Draw it yourself! Don’t copy someone elses work!”

“But didn’t you do that last week?” I respond with a pout, feeling hurt by her statement. I did a really good job trying to turn that fish into a bird myself.

“Do as I say, not as I do! I was trying to open your mind to new creative ideas, not for you to limit yourself to them! The world is full of copycats. Don’t join them!”

She’s really legitimately upset, I think. She rarely gets that upset with me.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra. I screwed up, I’m sorry.” I try to not cry, and I think she realizes I’m earnest, because she cools down.

“Okay. I forgive you.”

Like the sun appearing from behind the clouds, I feel my mood lifting. I smile at her.

“But don’t do it again.” She adds this right after when she sees how easily I try to move on from her rant.

Oww. So stern. I nod my head quickly.

“Okay, so it isn’t bad to be inspired by Escher. He was really capable and creative. But you need to realize you have to find your own path, and that your own creativity is the most precious skill you can build up. If you start copying, drawing will become boring and rote. Don’t do it.”

I nod again, making sure to remember not to cross her bottom line. She never gets pissed off like this, so it has to be really important, right?

“Okay. So if you like to study pattern transformations, that is fine. But do it your own way. How about next week, you fold a cube and do some sort of transforming pattern of your own that is different on all the sides?”

A cube? A pattern? Ow. My mind hurts. That’s so hard!

“I’ll try.” I promise her, smiling faintly.

“OK. So how’s your dad doing now? Is he getting better?”

I grimace a bit. Bleh. I come here so I don’t have to think about any of that!

“Uhh… he’s getting better. Slowly. He’s pushing himself about now; there’s no more nurses that follow him everywhere like some sort of secret agents trying to get at his secrets under the excuse of pushing his wheelchair.”

Cassandra chuckles in that conspirational way she is so good at, and I can hear Timothy laughing in the room he is in. He must have overheard. Business must be good for him as of late, because I rarely see him in the front here nowadays. But that’s totally fine by me. His eyes still creep me out, no matter how nice of a guy he is.

“How about your brother?”

She places her finger on my lips before I can start gushing, shaking her head. “No. That’s not what I mean.”

Oh.

The finger lifts away.

“I think the court gave a prosivi… temporary okay to them living together. Once dad gets fired from the get-better place, I mean. But there’s always the chance for an appeal, Nii-san said.”

Bah. The fakes didn’t even try, I bet. Not that they said they would… but I still hoped they might.

Cassandra smiles gently. “But isn’t that good..? Living with your dad is one step closer to being a family again, right?”

I grimace, and she seems utterly unhurried, allowing a silence to fall so I can’t avoid responding.

“IT SUCKS! Am I supposed to want to live with them? I’ll miss Jenny, and may not be able to come see you and Timothy again in the future. I probably would have to move schools again, too..”

She pats my shoulder comfortingly. “But you said you wanted to live back with your brother. Isn’t this your chance?” she counters.

I smile wryly, trying to put up a front so I won’t cry. “But I don’t want to lose other things to make it happen! And Jell… Jenny said I probably can’t affect the decision very much because I am too young.” It is with pain in my heart that I begrudgingly admit to the unfairness of reality.

“It will work out. You just need to keep trying hard.”

Bah. Such easy talk. Do you think I’m an idiot?

“Life is like drawing, Setsuka. You just need to keep approaching problems from different angles, and eventually, a picture will emerge that you couldn’t see coming beforehand.”

Wow, that’s…

“That’s so deep, Cass! What movie did you steal that from?”

“No movie! That one is an original!”

I burst out in laughter. It is weird how they are so good at breaking the panic and frustration whenever it builds up like that.

Maybe I can take on the future just like they say.


	46. Higher Authority

## 46\. Higher Authority

26 July 2012, at the Courthouse

This neat suit is far too tight. It chafes. Especially while sitting in the wheelchair like this.

But it doesn’t matter. Not compared to the utter bullshit of a verdict I am listening to.

They are words of nonsense. My fingers lack strength, but they still got white as I squeeze around the grips of my chair.

“… so after much deliberation, this court has found it to not be in the best interests of the child to be removed from her current home to a possibly unstable living situation at this time. The potential blessings of once more being reunited with her father and brother have in my opinion been insufficiently justified compared to the considerable changes this would bring along. Especially in the case of …”

He just drones on. And on. And it is all legal garbage. I give Henderson a glance; the man has done an alright job trying to look after my affairs for as far I can tell, but I can’t say I’m fully satisfied. But I guess he’s doing an okay job as a barrister.

However, he shakes his head now, urging me to stay silent.

Silent your ass. Setsuka is not going to come home with this shoddy excuse of a verdict!

" … past history of alcohol abuse is a considerable negative mark in this regard. Perhaps in a years time, there can be merits for a re-evaluation for the suitability of having her rejoin her biological family. However, this court would like to make a final statement on this matter - one that goes beyond the letter of the law but is well within the experiences of this judge. Mr. Heel."

He looks at me, and I look back at him, trying to look respectful but I know I am quite pissed off at his sanctimonious British ass. His accent shows just how far removed he is from society!

“Yes, your Honor?”

“I want to caution you against dragging this matter on. I understand the great desire to see and provide for your daughter on a daily basis, but when all the living essentials have been covered for, there is one thing that matters above all else. And that thing is stability. Do you understand?”

He must have grandkids. Most of his hair has already fallen out. So how does he know what modern kids want? He’s antiquated. And not nearly as familiar with the importance of providing for and being close to our children as we are.

“Respectfully, your Honor, I believe that… Setsuka needs her father. Her… caregivers may clean her clothes and keep her fed, but the… emotions and ties there are an.. emotional desert. Nobody loves her more than I do! And nobody else could provide her as good and safe a home to grow up in.”

Henderson doesn’t seem too satisfied, but at least he’s not motioning me to hold back how I’m feeling. The judge frowns, but screw him.

I have a right to my opinion. He’s a judge. Not the damn Queen, nor God.

“You are entitled to your opinion, Mr. Heel. Regardless, for the time being, this court decides that the custody arrangements shall remain the same, and that you have visitation rights for at least three hours every week, but with no upper limit as dictated by the child herself. Do you two understand?”

He is looking at those people Setsuka dubbed the fakes. Heh. At least I’m getting something out of it. They nod respectfully.

“Similarly, just to avoid further prosecution on the matter, I will say that I believe that while Cain is a child with problems, he has taken adequate measures to improve as a person, be it in temper, manners or finding positive ways to contribute to society. He is not a danger to Setsuka - nor do I personally believe he ever was - and as such I order you to not interfere in the ability of the two siblings to communicate or meet beyond those concerns natural to any parent, such as the childs location and her being home before nightfall.”

A smile slips on my face. A victory!

If you were here and not at school right now, you’d no doubt see.

Dad didn’t fail you completely. I got you back your Nii-san!

“This does not mean you have to go out of your way to facilitate their meetings, especially not on a regular basis. I understand your concerns regarding the boy, and if you wish to give off a clear signal towards her regarding your opinion of him, that is very much your right. However, I trust in the fact that Mr. Heel will be glad to accomodate any such matters in your stead.”

I quickly nod and speak affirmatively.

“I am, your Honor. Very much so.”

The old man smiles, nodding at me and then her guardians.

“Case dismissed.”

We begin to clear out the room, and despite the small victory, it pales in comparison to the win I truly desired.

“So.. how do we… appeal? To a higher court?”

Henderson sighs. I guess he saw my question coming fifteen minutes ago. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, though.

Trust in me, Setsuka. I’ll get you back home.


	47. Real Life Ping Pong

## 47\. Real Life Ping Pong

3 August 2012, in the park

This is what summers are supposed to be like!

Honestly, I had forgotten what holidays are supposed to be like. Having days without school or without theatre are free days, but they are not holidays per se.

They are only holidays once you have something to fill them up with.

I had forgotten how relaxing it is to just have Setsuka babbling about things nonstop while playing games with her. Yesterday, we spent time at the beach and she made sand castles and we even swam in the sea for a while. Frankly, I don’t even get why those buzzing flies of legal requirement decided to agree to her and me spending our weekend together.. but they did!

Sure, I have to call in to let them know where we are, and they’ve been checking up on us. But they are still giving me quality time with Setsuka.

“Nii-san, you lost again!”

Huh? Oh. Crap.

Two metres away from me lies the shuttle. The one I am supposed to bounce back at her.

“If you are letting me win I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day!”

I laugh from the bottom of my heart as I give her a doting grin while picking up the shuttle.

“Why would I let you win? It has been two years since you last threatened to not talk to me if you lost!”

Ah, whoops. She’s upset now. Her eyebrow twitches a bit and her knuckles are whitening up even more around the handle of that racket. “That was then. This is now! Serve again already! Loooooser!”

Oh. It is on now.

“You better watch your mouth before I wash it out with detergent!”

I would never. But she is instantly flustered, closing her mouth before realizing I don’t even have detergent with me. Why would I have detergent on a badminton field? She’s still as lovely and gullible as the Setsuka I remember.

But she still needs to be put in her place. So I toss the shuttle up and serve it with a hard serve.. that is full of deception. It is actually so soft it only barely clears the net, and her misjudging the distance it would fly contributes to her already late response.

“That’s a point for me. We’re even again!” I egg her on a bit.

“You’ve got longer legs!”

“I wasn’t running just now, was I?”

“But I was!”

“So? You weigh less.”

“… true.”

She ran out of arguments, and prepares her next serve seemingly unconvinced of her loss at both our verbal and our more physical spar. Every bit of her stance betrays her concentration, but her concentration cannot hide her innate adorableness.

I love summer. I really do.

It’s getting to be somewhat late in the afternoon when her ride appears in our field of view. It seems the end of our fun weekend has made itself present.. but then again, it could be far worse.

“Hey Cain. Hey Setty.”

The sun reflects off of that head covered by luscious red hair, and I am reminded how weird genes are. Western genes must have developed really differently from Asian ones, I guess.

I offer Jenny a small nod, unsure how to greet her. I think it is mutual; our talks are always a bit awkward and only last because of the glue that is Setsuka.

Hell, if I didn’t know Setsuka any better, I’d think she were trying to compete with me for her affection. There’s some of that spirit in her eyes that I’ve seen in acting class when we are vying for roles. The fiery inner spirit that yells out ‘I am no worse than you!’ and all that.

Look at those two hug. So affectionate. Frankly, I’m jealous. The last hug Setsuka gave me that was like that was this morning.

That’s eight hours ago!

A sigh escapes me as I approach them. No point in playing more and leaving the big sister watching on the sidelines. As if she was going to make up for the 37 point deficit.

Actually, I’m a bit jealous both ways. Am I a traitor to Setsuka to think of her older sister as being cute, too? I’d say she’s a more mature kind of cute. Maybe it is the clothes? Either way, she’s definitely very huggable.

No. Setsuka is still cuter. And infinitely more huggable.

Jenny starts to talk to me, holding her hand out in greeting so I can shake it.. which I do. There’s apparently no hug in it for me.

“I suggested I’d be the one to pick Setsuka up and they let me. I got my moped license a few days ago, and..”

“She did mention it. Several times.” I grin at the pair of them, and Setsuka blushes just a bit at me reminding her of the way she gloated about all the ways that sister of hers is amazing.

I wonder if she talks to others about me in that same way… probably not. Maybe when she was younger, but nowadays, what would she even have left to brag about? Her nii-san properly finishing his therapy and now spending time pretending to be other people in drama classes?

Yeah, I’m not really the cool brother anymore, I think. At the very least, I’m losing the ‘coolest sibling’ race big time.

“.. so anyway, I’ve got a helmet for her, so it is all safe. But I figure there’s no rush; it is a nice evening and it isn’t like they are waiting up to have dinner with us.”

She’s got a bloody killer smile. And I don’t mean it in the murderous way, although I think in Japan there’s some saying or other about nosebleeds. It almost makes sense.

I force myself not to blush like a fool on the chopping board to that smile. “Oh. That’s great. Do you want to talk or go out for dinner? I can treat.”

She grins amicably, and her hand playfully ruffles through Setsuka’s hair. Oi, Setsuka, you’re letting her do that to you? It took me months before you stopped pushing my hand away back in the day!

“Where’s the fun in that? You don’t even have a job, do you?” She shakes her head and glances towards the net. “Maybe you have another racket? Me versus the two siblings. The loser treats us all.”

“Nii-san is going to kick your ass, Jellybelly!”

Well… I guess we just accepted that challenge, and I can only offer Jelly… Jenny an appreciative smile. The wink she gives me in return almost makes my heart betray me, but my mind catches up: she’s trying to let us bond a bit rather than split us up.

“I guess I am.” I offer the redhead a determined and somewhat challenging smile of my own while trying really hard to ignore the fact that this sister has longer legs than me.

A man doesn’t make excuses, so if we lose, I can hardly point that out, right? And it is two versus one, too!

This is a true challenge for sibling supremacy.

We must win!


	48. Playing Hardball

## 48\. Playing Hardball

3 August 2012, chasing balls in the park

Pant… wheeze… inhaaale….. and out again.

Fuck.

Such merciless teaming.

This match isn’t going at all like I anticipated.

I pick up the shuttle once again, and can only see Setty’s beaming face as she wanders over to her Nii-san to give him a high five.

“As if I’ll ever do you two a favor again..”

The words I mutter are barely audible, but Setty’s radar-like hearing overhears me mumbling and is quick to inquire. “What’d you say, sis?”

I force a smile to my lips, shaking my head as I calmly walk back to slightly behind center of my side of the field. We’re not really strict with the rules, and every second I can find to catch a breather is more valuable than whatever strategies I’m clearly not coming up with. This match is working up far more of a sweat for me than I’d like.

Were it not for Setty, I don’t think Cain would be trying so hard. I think he’s been holding back whilst playing with Setty for most of the day, clearly just trying to have a fun time with her… but since she wants to win… ugh.

“So this is what you two intend on doing for all of this game?”

I ask the question to stretch out my opportunity to catch a breath, and Setty offers me a merciless grin as she nods.

“Isn’t Nii-san smart?”

She gloats like that.

You’ve got two people, pipsqueak! Tone it down!

I want to yell at her overly self-satisfied expression just a bit, but… ugh. It’d be better to win. If only I could come up with a plan.

My eyes wander to Cain again, trying to make more sense of the boy. Frankly, I had expected to cream them. A sixteen-year-old versus a twelve-year-old and a ten-year-old… obviously I should have the edge, right? Be it in running faster or by having more life experience: I’ve got them beat.

I toss my shuttle up suddenly, and serve a nasty serve close to the net. Unfortunately, Cain barely managed to cover for Setsuka’s lacking sprint, and returns the shuttle to… the far left.

Here we go again. I sprint as far as I can, and reach the shuttle just before it would hit the ground. Ugh. Terrible return shot. I already run back to the center, because this is their entire strategy: to make me run back and forth and beat me through sheer exhaustion.

The return shot indeed ends up on the far right, and I make it there with half a second to spare. I aim my return a little bit more fancily, playing it so close onto Setty that I hope she’ll fumble with the racket because she doesn’t know how to position… oh, fuck you Cain.

That stupid kid literally jumped up at the net and used his length to intercept the shuttle right there before it could even trouble Setty in the back. And he didn’t just serve it to the left side again, no.. he is serving it to just where I’m at this very moment!

But I’m already in a full sprint to make it to the other side again…!

I try my best to come to a stop, but the momentum and the need to turn around brings about yet another loss. Setsuka’s cheer almost makes it a bit easier to bear, but then I remember how vicious this ‘we need to win’ tactic of theirs is.

Momentarily, I consider giving up. There’s no harm in losing a two versus one, or in paying for dinner. But there’s harm to my goddamn pride if I let these two smart-ass little dipshits treat me like I’m a fucking hamster in a wheel!

Fuck.

Maybe a rule change? Fuck no. I don’t want no damn handicap.

Setty wouldn’t let me live that one down for months.

One more serve on their part follows, and after a few back-and-forths, there’s yet another loss for me. As expected.

“We can stop here.”

That’s Cain saying that as he gives me an empathizing smile. Ugh. Is even this kid pitying me now? I refuse. I refuse I refuse I refuse!

“We haven’t played that much, though. Only for about twenty minutes. Or are you that hungry?” I inquire back of him with a competitive grin, thinking I figured him out.

He gazes away. “Nah. We can play more.”

What is with that response?

“You sure?”

I tease him back like I would Setty. He’s got to be hungry after playing all day, right.

“Nah. I’m fine. Let’s.. play more.” He looks back at me for just a few moments before looking back at Setsuka with that doting sibling smile he’s always got in store for her.

That kid is acting so weird.

It isn’t until I walk back to prepare for my next serve that the wind explains my problem.

Fuck.

I think.. I just found out how I can win.

“Cain.” I call out his name, and he looks at me, wondering what the hell I’m up to.

“Keep an eye on the shuttle. Don’t let your gaze wander. I’m going to get serious now, okay?”

I wink conspirationally at him before serving. Every bit of my own movements tells me I have to be right. Every bit of the eye contact he avoids confirms it. I am right in having another weapon. Right in knowing how to defeat the two-sibling combo..!

As expected, I win this round. And the next one.

Admittedly, it becomes a bit harder to focus though, knowing that my own attention is exactly where his attention is also trying to go, and how this is strictly considered a wardrobe malfunction…

But it is mostly satisfying. Knowing the power I wield over him.

Setty was never the weak one on their team.

It is the oh-so-perfect brother.

Alas, in the end… I still lose the match. But only by a few points.

As I move to the side of the field, I give Cain a knowing smile, and he blushes rather overtly, no longer in a position to think I don’t know or have the non-stop activity keep his mind away from it. He may have won, but it is on a technicality more than anything. They were simply too far ahead by the time I figured it out.

I know the older brother isn’t perfect. He’s as much of a little perv as other boys his age are. Nah. It’s probably guys in general.

The only down side is that I didn’t bring a change of clothes. Well, I’ll just put my jacket over it. It’ll be fine, if chafingly uncomfortable during dinner. A shower would be really amazing right now. Heck, even a simple change of clothes would be killer.

Next time I’m going to challenge these siblings at sports, I need to make sure to wear a plain white top again. I never would have thought a bit of sweat could have given me such an edge.

If only I had realized sooner!

Still, losing like this… isn’t bad at all. Because he isn’t perfect. He isn’t perfect, ha!

… I almost feel bad for feeling so happy over that. Almost.

“So Setty, what do you want for dinner?”


	49. Trench Warfare

## 49\. Trench Warfare

8 September 2012, at the Butterfly Gardens

Life as a more-or-less not-quite-valid person is a continuous challenge. Each challenge comes with solutions, which consist out of challenges in their own right.

Take this trip to the butterfly gardens.

I need someone to help me with all the necessities, ideally in the shape of someone with a bit of arm strength in case I get tired. Running out of stamina and holding everyone back is a great way to ruin a day, after all. Oh, and also emergencies. Almost forgot those.

Besides, I can’t just get into a car to get here, oh no. That simply doesn’t fit with the wheelchair, not given the fact there’s two kids and one chaperone that have to come along. Take the bus then, but for some reason, the closest bus stop to these gardens are practically useless, even ignoring the fact that the bus may not be quite ideal given my current limitations.

And a hackney carriage simply isn’t feasible; those things may be a bit spacier than just another car, but still not good enough for my round-legged steed.

Which is why it is currently Setsuka digging through some plants at the side of the path together with Zoe while Cain is pushing my wheelchair. He’s being oddly helpful today. I wonder if he’s got a crush on Zoe; the way they shook hands clearly showed they met before.

“Wooow! Look at this caterpillar! Nii-san, come check it out! He’s so fuzzy and long!”

As if it were the excuse Cain were looking for, he parks me at the side of the path before quickly going to look at the little bug the younger and older lady are looking at. The temptation to yell at him for not bringing me closer is something I only barely repress; when the wheel went off the path and into the dirt I nearly came to topple over due to the slight difference in height.

So instead, I just get to watch them have fun. Admittedly, that’s still quite fulfilling, especially since I was trying to make up for missing Setsuka’s birthday last year with this little family outing.

“See, dad? Lots of little wriggly hairs.”

The few moments I spent pondering my blessings are when she ran up, the little bug having been scooped onto her finger so she can share her joys with me, too. She’s got this thoughtful caring side that is so much like her mother; compared to most other little shits you see run around she is truly a gem. Even when you look at the same tree, there’s a bigger shit that is quite similar to her, although I can’t say to ever have seen him care for anything that’s not his mother or his sister.

“It is very cute, honey. What’s it called?” I inquire of her as I fail to withstand the urge to affectionately brush her cheek. I’m not sure if it is the touch or the question which prompts her to run off to find a nearby plate with information scribbled on top, but she’s gone like the wind.

Cain is back, and with a somewhat rough touch, he handles the wheelchair again, making me jerk in my seat and resist a painful gasp. He’s never been subtle about his thoughts in the past, and he still isn’t today. All that therapy he is said to have gone through hasn’t changed that part of him one bit. I wonder if it did anything at all, honestly.

“What now..?” I inquire wearily of him. Let’s make him vent, before he explodes. That’s how it works. I hope. And if nothing else, there’s still Zoe.

“You’re an old, crummy bastard. You know _exactly_ what you’re doing.” He mutters, keeping his voice low as to not disturb Setsuka nor Zoe. Unfortunately for him, the latter has experiences to complement senses far exceeding the worth of Setsuka’s young and sensitive ears, and a cautioning eyebrow is thrown in our direction.

That woman doesn’t mess around when she’s angry. I haven’t seen it, but I can tell. As can Cain, since he stays quiet.

“It is a birthday… celebration. Lighten up.” I respond, trying to put a smile on my face despite knowing exactly what he is referring to. Still, necessity trumps kindness, and everything is fair in love and war.

“Yes. Lighten up. Both of you. This is not the time nor the place for family drama, okay?” Zoe is butting in, completely ignoring the fact this is a family affair. And now she’s staring at me; what did I do?

“And don’t look at me like that; you were the one to invite me, Mr. Heel. This is my free saturday I am spending to help you and your kids have a great outing; if you think I’ll let your tomfoolery make a fool out of me, you clearly underestimate the creativity of the glib-tongued scam artist.”

Damn. Maybe I should’ve asked Nurse Muffin, but Zoe is an eight whereas Muffin is at best a six. Their kindness and susceptibility to a charming handicapped man aside, it is obvious to invite the prettier one, right?

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” There’s not much to do for me but to apologize; I don’t want to ruin this fun afternoon.

“Cain, why don’t you go check on your sister instead? I think she could use your hand.” she offers him with a lighthearted wink that truly means ‘scram and go be useful elsewhere’.

Seeing just how compliant Cain is, I realize Zoe is truly a woman that lays down the law wherever she goes.

As Cain and Setsuka are off inside the plants to look for the other species of caterpillars in these plants, Zoe begins to push me towards the little cafe we passed earlier, which in turn makes me realize I’m feeling a bit more tired than Setsuka’s happy smile has allowed me to realize until now.

“Let’s just make this a fun day. Whatever family problems there are between you two, they can’t be solved today, okay? Even if I appreciate your common sense about wanting to confront your son around a police officer to clear the air in relatively safety, this is a birthday. A happy outing. I am not your shrink nor your mediator. Do you get that, Mr. Heel?”

She is really stern right now. Wow. Add a bit of leather on top, and I’d argue it could be sexy, although I haven’t felt the call of hormones since I woke up to really convince me that particular line of thought holds true where the rest of my body is concerned.

“You’re right. But I didn’t invite you today for that reason. That nap of mine has left me low on common sense. Frankly, I wish I had thought of it.”

She sighs softly, parking me besides a table, putting on the brake and sitting down opposite me, giving me a gentle look that is more like the angel I met.

It is worth a shot.

“Maybe I can invite you for that purpose in the future? For when things come to a head?”

It is but a careful probe, and her eyes narrow, not being too happy with the offer, but I bet she’she can hardly fault me for it. She said she appreciated my mind just moments ago, right?

“According to the agreement, he’ll move in on the 26th after the new apartment is all furnished and ready. I suspect seeing you about just once or twice could be really helpful. It would make me feel more safe, at the very least.”

She motions towards one of the serving girls near the register before responding to me. “If you feel so unsafe around him, why go out of your way to live with him again that quickly?”

I smile awkwardly as the serving girl comes by and takes an order for two coffees. When she leaves, I finally respond.

“I’m not afraid of him. I just feel… powerless. He’s a bright kid. Very… opinionated. Especially when he can clash with me. But with his passion, I feel a bit of a neutral common ground could help him keep himself in check. I am not as physically independent as I used to be, so grounding just makes sense to me.”

She is giving me a weird look. A really, really weird look. She doesn’t look flattered.

“Are you propositioning me, Quinn?”

OH DEAR GOD NO.

“No no no no.” I find myself blushing, shaking my head in panic. Dear God, that _is_ what it sounded like, isn’t it?

“He’d straight out murder me if I went to find another wife. No no no. I just meant.. a safe person.. he knows you, I know you, your job makes you neutral by default, I mean… oh Kami-sama shoot me in the head right now, please.”

I mutter the last bit, but she ends up laughing at my unabashed panic. “Okay. I might come by once or twice to help you two come to terms with living together. You have my number, right?”

Yes, yes I do. “I think so, yes.”

Another piece falls into place, thankfully. But for now, I’ll just enjoy the view. It is always nice to see a woman laugh from the heart.


	50. Snipping of Strings

## 50\. Snipping of Strings

8 September 2012, inbetween the shrubberies

They are all crawling all over my hand, now.

That’s two of those citrus swallowtail caterpillars. And four of those owl butterfly caterpillars I asked Nii-san to help me find.

Oh no. That’s another one of those citrus swallowtail caterpillars.

Why so many, Nii-san? I just wanted to look at one.. but he is just lifting them up from the plants and dropping them off in my hands.

Oh no, little one.. don’t go on the back of my hand. You’ll fall off!

Awkwardly, my hand shifts to try and keep all the caterpillars somewhat upright but those stubborn little things might fall off soon.. they are so tiny and fragile, how could they survive the drop?

“Enough, Nii-san… they’re going to fall..!”

He’s holding another two caterpillars in his hands already… where is he finding them so quickly?!

And now that dopey look he’s giving me. Why? I didn’t say anything wrong!

After a moment or two, he puts those caterpillars he holds back on the plant, taking all the care possible to make sure no caterpillars were hurt. I follow his motions and also begin to put my own collection away on a variety of leaves, because they are all little gluttons according to the sign.

I don’t get it; why do people keep suggesting Nii-san is dangerous? He isn’t like that. Not at all. He is soft and tender and compassionate and…

“Setsuka.”

Hmmmm?

“Yes..?”

I probably sound a bit distracted, but in my defense, he is looking at me with a bit of a lost expression himself. Oooh, he is so damn cute sometimes. Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend yet?

… but just vaguely, I can tell he’s hurting a bit inside.

I’ve been able to tell that all day.

It’s not like he’d tell me what’s bothering him, though.

Those stupid older siblings and their secrets!!

“Do you know what you’ll say..?”

Oh. Is that what’s bugging him? _That_ is bugging him? What, does he think I’m just full of fibs and half-hearted promises?

“Of course I do! Of course I’ll com–”

“Don’t.”

I blink, finding myself instantly out of steam as I want to yell at him for saying something so stupid.

“… Don’t?”

I repeat, finding myself completely offguard.

He nods. “Don’t.”

I blink again. Tears are filling my eyes. God no.

“Nii-san, stop joking! This isn’t funny!”

BULLY! I don’t want to deposit tears and snot all over my face in front of you! Why are you making me look like such a little kid by saying such mean words!

“I’m not joking..”

I punch him with my hand– OW. Damn bully, who told you to have so many sturdy muscles and hard bones!? Still, he’s pushed back a bit, and I can see he too hurts.

BUT I DON’T CARE!!

HE IS THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS!

YOU DESERVE IT, YOU BAKA, BAKA… BAKA~~!!

BAKA!

As I turn away, he starts to make excuses. Something about Jenny. About her feelings.

I DON’T CARE!

JUST GO AWAY!

But he isn’t going away.

So instead, I run. Away from Nii-san.

Somewhere inbetween all those tears and the pain, I realize… this is the first time I ran away from his embrace.

YOU STUPID BAKA!


	51. Cardboard Kittens

## 51\. Cardboard Kittens

25 September 2012, on the way to Quinn’s apartment

A few more minutes, and we’ll have reached our destination after braving this downpour. Marc is bringing me away from the place I had sort of come to consider a home and into a true place for depression to flourish: my dad’s new apartment.

Ugh. Maybe I should have tried fighting it more.

But it isn’t as if there’s a point to doing so. At most it would make Setsuka ask all sorts of weird questions. Perhaps I’d dodge them once or twice, but even if she’s young, impressionable and way too easy to trick, she’s not an idiot incapable of noticing patterns.

“Excited?”

I glance sideways to give Marc a stare. The guy offered to help me move out - he might not use the exact same words as I am about to, but I am quite sure he considers me a success project.

Graded tests are such an easy standard to meet. Obviously I’m going to succeed. I honestly don’t know what he’s expecting, or what the hell those other idiots are doing that they fail at it.

“Not really.”

My response is as honest as it is blunt, and I hope I can squash his excitement just a little bit because the thought of him wanting to be rid of me is frankly more annoying than having to move in with the guy I intend to ignore for as much as I can possibly get away with.

In this family, all the good things come from the female side of family tree.

“You’re not going to get anywhere without a positive outlook, Cain. I know you blame him for a lot of things, but being stuck in past events has never improved anything. Look towards the future, kiddo! No more strict institute rules and a proper chance to find yourself a girlfriend!”

Come to think of it, I think I do know.

Those idiots simply don’t care about passing Marc’s silly little tests. Were it not for Setsuka, I don’t think I would, either.

“I haven’t seen a girl my age that’s worth tolerating thus far. They are all as annoying as flies.”

My stoic response has brought forth a guffawing burst of laughter, and he’s animatedly slamming his steering wheel. Good grief, relax dude. It wasn’t even a joke!

“Haha. Ha. That’s what you say now, Cain..! How about we talk again in a couple of months to see if you’ve changed your mind?”

I roll my eyes in silence, opting to not even look at him and ignore this stupid conversational tack only to find we’ve entered a residential neighborhood. Crap. We’re here.

It is just outside of a somewhat aged but still decent-looking complex that we get out. I guess it cannot compare to our old home with the giant garden Mom favored, but then again, dad hates gardening. Expecting him to find a place with a garden to maintain is like asking an alcoholic to drink tap water.

And even dad hasn’t been that drastic; he’s been drinking a different kind of tea whenever I’ve had the questionable pleasure to spend the day with him. By this time next week, I can probably write a small novel on his thrilling tea escapades.

We get out of the car and Marc, ever the socially inclined biscuit, wanders over to my wheelchair-equipped father who appears to be sitting in the foyer. Personally, I just think he wants to get out of the rain, and I don’t blame him one bit. This bloody British weather is an ever-changing constant of disappointment.

I get my one box from the car after placing the bag with odds and ends on top of it, then push the thing closed with my hip. Full hands are the perfectly sociable excuse not to greet the man; upsetting Marc just isn’t worth the preaching that’ll inevitably follow.

We move up to the apartment in a group. Apartment 38c. What a number. I feel like a properly mass-produced piece of British junkfood already.

Dad moves in and briefly introduces the rooms. Living room with a tiny kitchen. His room. My room. And Setsuka’s room.

Goddamn wanker. I know exactly what he’s been upto.

Everything he’s been doing as of late has been to spoil her. Trips here or there as an early birthday present, a new hairclasp, a pack of origami squares.

He is fucking bribing her. Damn that insensitive son of a bitch.

All that after pushing to have the judge ask her what she wants, which they finally ended up scheduling for next weeks hearing.

The sanctimonious piece of shit is just trampling over her feelings without a care!

Then again… I am no better, am I? FUCK.

I drop my box off on top of the mattress in what is to be my own room, the lack of subtlety on my part probably making it more akin to a frustrated slam. Take a deep breath… and move on. I can’t change any of that stuff right now. Move. On!

Looking up, I realize my room is furnished decently enough. There is a bed, a desk and white walls. It is utterly naked, but then again, Setsuka’s room-to-be is still stacked full of boxes. Apparently all our old possessions were just tossed together back then, so it is going to take her and me to go through them to figure out what needs to be kept. Because clearly, he can’t do it.

Fine! I caused that coma of his! I haven’t ever denied it, not even to Setsuka. But he’s fucking milking it every step of the way. The bastard.

You already were a soggily intoxicated biscuit ever before I scrambled your eggs, old man. Don’t blame the mixer!

As my eyes look at the box I dropped on the bed in front of me, feelings assault me. Ah crap. I’m so sorry, Setsuka!

Cardboard boxes are meant to protect their contents, so I really shouldn’t care. But this box is special; Setsuka was sketching on it when she visited the Institute two weeks ago. I bought the box the day before, so when she was in one of her drawing moods, I just offered it up for her to peruse.

The way she was sitting in it and drawing on the outside from that position still brings smiles to my mind. Although her posture was really weird, what struck me the most is how much she has been improving. They aren’t lifelike or anything yet, but when she gave me the origami zoo a year ago, her skills were still incomparable to mine: a really childish but overly cute scribblefest that would make hearts melt.

But now they clearly eclipse my pitiful cavedrawings, having become true artworks in their own right. Perhaps a bit immature still, but undeniable artworks.

Or did. Unfortunately, the litter of kittens she drew is all splotchy and ugly now because of my carelessness. I should have covered the box up before taking it out of the car. But like an utter idiot that dropped down way too close to the tree that grew me, I trampled all over her feelings YET AGAIN!

My hand balls into a fist before I even consciously realize that I am about to blow off some steam, and I punch the mattress with as much force as I can muster. Fuckers. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

After I regain a bit of my calm, I realize I can’t just stay in here. Dad… well, whatever. But Marc will end up with questions. Damn that emotional bloodhound.

I guess it is time to rejoin dad and Marc in the living room.

And then maybe find a boxing gym in this neighborhood.

To avoid history repeating itself. Because it just might.


	52. Powerlessness

## 52\. Powerlessness

1 October 2012, at the Courthouse

Whatever that little twat said to her, I’m going to give him hell over it!

Poing! Clap!

I am going to strip him naked and drag him by his feet through his school to embarass the everliving ego out of that puny self-absorbed male monkey brain of his.

Poing! Clap!

HOW DARE HE DO THIS TO MY SETTY!

Poing! Clap!

We’re sitting opposite eachother in the waiting room of the judge’s office. His secretary is sitting over there on the other side of the room behind her desk, but I guess she’s seen enough panicked kids in Setty’s position to know when to bug us and when to stay away.

Poing! Clap!

Mom and dad and her dad and the parade of hired help are currently in the courtroom to discuss a few things. The judge decided Setty couldn’t come in because of all the pressure it might place on her… well, I don’t blame him. She’s a mess as it is.

Poing! CRACK!

Oh, oops! The panic on Setsuka’s face and the embarassment on my own meet for a moment before we look towards the secretary in panicked shame.

The woman seems frustrated. I’d be too if I were to have to clean up a broken case and a big puddle of water. I quickly move to stand up and come to offer an apology to the woman who is getting a cleaning cloth from a cabinet near her.

“I’m so sorry. We weren’t paying attention. So sorry!”

She offers us a troubled smile, shaking her head before bouncing the ball back to Setty moments after picking it up. Wow, the lady must be a masochist if she’s not telling us to stop.

“Don’t mention it. It’s happened before.”

Somehow, I doubt it, but why complain when you are getting away scot-free? I’m not that stupid. I offer her a small smile before returning back to Setty, motioning her to bounce the ball back towards me.. but she seems to be lost in her own mind again.

We’ve spent the past ten minutes bouncing this ball back and forth, because Setty won’t talk and I don’t want to leave her stuck in that hyperactive little mind of hers right now.

It is a very bad place, I can tell that much.

A month ago, I’d have thought Cain would be sitting here with her.

But that little prick offended her badly enough that she didn’t want him to come. His hurt expression was as intense as it was deserved. The stupid little asshole put his head into it far too much, so he shouldn’t be surprised it can tear, too!

I clack my tongue, and finally get Setty’s attention back on me. She forces a smile on her lips that couldn’t be more fake, and throws the ball again.

Poing! Clap!

As I catch the ball, I hold onto it. Should I ask her? I don’t want to pry too much.

Hell. I feel guilty. Can I tell her to come live with me? Do I tell her to give live with Cain? She’s welcome in either house no matter what she wants, and she knows that.

In actuality, it comes down to whether I want to be selfish, or whether I want to be supportive?

“Setty. Do you know what you’re going to say?”

She gives me a lost look. So this is what it looks like to pull away the pillar that supports all that boundless optimism. So cruel.

In the end, she shakes her head slightly before tears slip into her eyes again.

I thought as much. Sigh. This should have been an easy ‘Nii-san this, Nii-san that’ sort of talk. That little bastard~!

Unable to help myself, I encroach on her little island of suffering and force a hug upon her. She’s not in the mood for this sort of physical skinship, but I frankly don’t care. She doesn’t know what she wants; that’s the problem to begin with.

And just maybe, she’ll keep living with us if I am really supportive right now.

BAH! I hate myself for thinking like this! She needs me, why am I betraying her by trying to become a part of the problem that’s bothering her? Whatever she decides, I am fine with it. That’s what I decided this morning. Period!

Her fingers grip my arms, and she sniffles and cries in the most heartrending fashion. She won’t let me see, but the shaking of her body and the irregular breathing makes it as clear as day. I can only pat her back, finding that the words I wanted to offer are slowly escaping me because they seem more selfish by the moment.

I am her sister, not her owner! Decision. Made. No more second-guessing! No matter how much I will regret it!

“Setty…”

The saliva I am trying to swallow is somehow fighting my body and gravity both, but eventually it slips down, allowing me to form more words without drooling over her shoulder.

“You should trust in yourself. Is one little fight with that little twerp enough to destroy that life-long bond you two have?”

There. I’m supporting her. Like a good sister.

Wait wait, why is she crying even harder now? She’s gripping onto my arms for dear life like a drowning man in a storm!

What did I do? How do I fix this?!

It is then that I see the judge come through the little door that leads to the courtroom. He gives a very sympathetic glance in our direction before talking to the woman that is still cleaning up the mess our bouncing game cauised.

I guess he’s going to let her calm down before whisking her away to his office for that chat.

Doesn’t he realize the painful feelings will just rear their ugly heads once more?

Despite that… I can’t blame the man one bit for wanting to take her pain away. Because I feel the exact same. She shouldn’t have to do this!

I just hope he won’t make her cry as pathetically as I just did.


	53. Defeating Grandpa

## 53\. Defeating Grandpa

1 October 2012, inside the belly of the beast known as the Courthouse

A small smile is forced onto my lips as I turn back and give a small wave at Jenny, who waves back from the sitting area we were just playing at. Then… a deep breath. And in I go, following after he who judges.

Who gives him the right to do that anyways?

“Would you like some tea, Setsuka? Perhaps with some jaffa cake?”

This is wrong. So wrong.

Whenever an adult begins to offer me snacks like this, trouble is afoot. Like a monster lurking in the shadows.

But I nod. Nobody passes on free jaffa cake. “Yes please!” I utter happily, still trailing behind the man.

He must have noticed me lingering awkwardly, because he turns back after putting on the kettle. “Come come. Take a seat.” he responds amiably as he pats my shoulders in the same motion as he nudges me towards the chair.

See? I knew it! All choice is a lie! Especially here!

A small jump takes me up on the seat, opposite his desk. It is a huge desk, and I’d feel intimidated if it wasn’t such a mess. Rather than some sort of executioner coming to claim my life, all that paper stuff just reminds me of a grandpa who piles up several days worth of newspaper besides his trusty chair.

“So, as I said just now, I’m Judge Farrell. But you can just call me Peter.”

He introduced himself? … Oh. Before we went in.

I wasn’t listening very much, then.

“I’m Setsuka Heel.”

Inwardly, I roll my eyes. Both at him and me. Of course he knows that. Wouldn’t it be shameful to lob off the head of the wrong person? And why did I have to sound so stupid just now?

Can’t I sound mature, like Nii… Nee-san?

I hate you, Nii-san!

While the discussion rages in my mind, the kettle finished boiling. Huh. That’s quick. Soon, he’s poured it and prepared a slice of jaffa cake, both of which soon rest on the desk in front of me.

But I’m not going to make a fool of drinking it. That tea is way too hot! Why doesn’t the dumdum put some cold water in there? Has he never made a good tea before?!

He’s finally coming to sit down behind his desk, sitting down in that leather chair that looks way comfier than someone who rules the living should have it.

“How have you been, Setsuka? I hope you’re not worried about the vase; accidents happen.” He chuckles in a likeable manner. “I hated that gaudy thing anyways, so you did me a favor.”

I find myself grinning just a little. It was a damn ugly vase. Whoever made it had no respect for themselves. And whomever bought it…

“The person who gave you that must have hated you, huh?”

Aaah..! Why’d I say that? No no!

But he laughs. One of those bellyflopping types of things, where you think the building ought to shake along in merriment. I can’t help but chuckle along despite my newfound embarassment. Can’t I just shut up? Geez!

“I never thought of it like that, but you are right!” he offers as he leans forward, leaning over in a sort of conspiratory fashion that makes me want to lean over in kind. He whispers.

“Would you like to come work for me?”

Deep inside, I feel flattered by the offer. Perhaps… But no, even more deeply inside, I feel wariness coming up. I peer at him.

“Nii-san told me adults who are sweet on me want to trick me.”

One of his eyebrows raises, his lip tugging into a bit of a grandfatherly smile. “Nissan? Like the car?”

Bahaha. I burst into laughter. Shaking my head. “No no. Niiiiii. Sannnn. It means big brother! Cain. That damn bully!”

Now he is chuckling along, understanding what I meant. “Oh. Your dad mentioned you two are fighting for the first time. He must have really messed up, huh?”

Nii-san is a damn bully. You are damn right he messed up!

I glare at grandpa, and reach for my jaffa cake to make a point.

I am not answering you. Nuh huh.

He smiles patiently. What, do you think I’ll talk if you just stay silent?

I take a bite. A big one. So big it doesn’t fit in my mouth. I’m making a mess.

But I don’t care! You are not going to make excuses for Nii-san. I won’t let you have the chance!

It is between him and me! That stupid baka bully!

“How about we play a little game?”

Huh. Why’s he saying that all of a sudden? I finally swallow my jaffa cake and shake my head warily, spitfiring out all the reasons why I am not playing with him.

“No. You’ll lose, and then you’ll be upset, and then I’ll lose because you lost!”

He laughs. “Well, how about we add some prizes then? The winner gets a jaffa cake, but the loser has to honestly answer a question. Does that sound fair?”

A strong, annoyed glance is all I can give him.

“How do I know if you’ll be honest? And… wait, what game are we playing?”

That grandpa smile of his is treacherous. Nothing harmless old little man! He’s got a scheme, and I almost fell for it!

“Just a little game. I’ll say something I know, and you have to guess whether it is the truth or a lie, which determines the winner and loser. Afterwards, we switch roles and repeat it. Do you think you’ll lose?”

He’s being all illicit and stuff, like one of those detectives-for-life from the movies. He glances down, urging me to look at where he’s looking before he slides open a drawer. Then… I see it.

A fresh, unopened pack… of jaffa cakes.

He nudges it up to show it off in a really seedy manner. As if it is contraband.

Wow. How many jaffa cakes is that? One… two… ah, to hell with it!

“Don’t cry when you lose all those jaffa cakes, grandpa! I’m going to win all of them and eat them right in front of you!”


	54. The Poisoned Well

## 54\. The Poisoned Well

12 October 2012, at the apartment

It’s been two days since the verdict. And yet I cannot help but find myself drawn to re-read it over and over and over.

There has to be more to it.

Information that escapes my attention.

Something to explain this result.

Even the loud rock&roll music Cain has demonstratively put on in his room doesn’t annoy me as much as this.

Okay. From the top. One more time.

‘After a long discussion with Setsuka Heel outside of the influence of those dear to her, it is the opinion of the judge presiding over this court that many of the parties concerned have applied a considerable pressure on her to speak in favor of them.’

My teeth clench unwittingly as I grip the paper. Nobody plays fair. Can’t they just let her speak the truth?

‘To find that a child is being manipulated to such a degree by those around her - by those who are supposed to support and care for her no less - is an utter disgrace.’

You are damn right it is! She’s Matilda’s little apple, the bastion of her grace and purity, the most important person in this damn household! Screw that manipulative bullshit of those people worming their way into her heart!

‘Because of this, the hands of this court are tied. The wishes and desires of Setsuka are paramount in these deliberations, yet there is no knowing what she has been told to say, told to feel or told not to express. When she remains silent, is she trying to protect someone she cares for, or is she trying to absolve someones wrath?’

What does that even mean? That last sentence; is someone threatening to physically harm her? That could not be. Not on the other side. Impossible.

If that were the case, she’d obviously have come back home where she belongs. With me.

.. And Cain.

Fucking Cain.

Of course.

That damn boy..!

“Cain!”

I bark out angrily as I turn my wheelchair, starting to move towards the hallway and slam on the closed door. “CAIN!”

Several moments later, he finally opens the door. Look at that cheeky grin. He’s enjoying this. He’s fucking enjoying this. The precocious twat!

“What the FUCK did you do? Tell me!”

My hand has crumpled up the written verdict, but he is just giving me that uncaring stare. Those cold eyes with the scary rage that simmers within.

“I did nothing but tell her what I thought was best for her.”

“You… YOU…!”

I slam the verdict down on the ground, wanting so badly to just stand up and tower over the damn kid, perhaps give him a slap in the face as he damn well deserves. His hand-turned-fist only manages to emphasize his utter disrespect for me more and more.

“Whatever you said.. the fucking judge now thinks you might hurt her! That is why I… no, WE LOST SETSUKA. Because of your fucking toxic behaviour that just had to meddle while not understanding anything! You stupid boy!”

And now he explodes..! I flinch back, seeing his fist come at me… but somehow, it seems he holds back from punching me at the last moment.

“Fuck off, ‘dad’! _YOU_ were the one to fucking _FORCE_ her into this to begin with!”

“No, fuck _you_! Your sister wanted things to be AS THEY WERE. To live with you and me. THAT is what SHE wanted!”

The pain on his face is just a bit satisfactory, and rather than deal with the punch I truly expect that stupid boy to throw out, he slams the door back into my face with a force that ought to blow it off the hinges.

“YOU are TOXIC, Cain. TOXIC! An utter fucking WASTE of human DNA!”

I yell this at the closed door before picking the crumpled verdict back up from the floor, and as I turn back I can hear his answer.

Apparently he hadn’t reached the volume ceiling of that stereo set before now.

… Sigh… At least I won’t have to call Zoe myself this time. If the neighbors don’t call in this kind of racket, I’d be disappointed in the state of modern society.


	55. Frustrating Foolishness

## 55\. Frustrating Foolishness

18 October 2012, Cain’s room at the apartment

I really need to get a mobile phone. And I need to get her one, too. Because this is the most utterly retarded game of phone hide-and-seek-and-maybe-tag that I’ve ever had to go through.

The cordless in my hand is something I stare at, the last attempt five minutes ago having been a dead end. Nobody home. Damnit.

Right when that old coot is finding new ways to skirt the law in a place where an upstart piece of sperm-met-egg can’t ruin his chances. Which in turn gives me mine.

I finally have a chance… but nope, nothing! BAH! Can’t anyone over there just answer the damn phone!? It isn’t rocket science!

The problem with dear old dad being in a wheelchair is that he stays home far more than he used to. The pubs must not be very wheelchair accessible, although I am sure he’ll laugh that one off and simply call it a blessing in disguise. Whatever the reason or excuse may be, it sucks.

Whenever he’s home and I turn my music off, he comes to bug me for ‘talks’ nobody with half a brain has any interest in. And when I have it on, he comes to my door to bug me about the volume, so obviously the only response is to turn it up higher. It’s not like Zoe will let her coworkers lock me up or anything over a damn radio, after all.

Arghhh..!

I’d feel so much better if I could just throw that phone against the wall. But only for a minute. I can’t afford not to clear up the air with Setsuka.

She never outright said it at court, nor since, but she is upset with me. She doesn’t need to say it, because I know. But it is for the best.

… As if she’d listen to such a PATHETIC EXCUSE! OW!

Kicking the bed in anger is a painfully decent alternative to throwing the phone, goddamn it. At least I’m wearing shoes, even though the Dickhead-In-Charge keeps telling me to take them off.

This is England, not fucking Japan. Asshole.

Rrrrinnnnngggg~~~!

Wah! That startled me.

Caller ID.. is Setsuka’s home. Thank god. I quickly go to answer the call.

“Yes? This is Cain? Setsuka, is that you?”

“Nii-san. Please stop.” She sounds tired. Tired and frustrated. What has she been doing?

“You weren’t answering my calls. I’m worried.”

Her response is deadpan serious; I can tell by the breath she takes. It lacks her usual vibrant life-loving enthusiasm.

“You deserve it.”

Yes, yes I do. I should never have pushed you away, especially not like that!

“I do. I’m sorry.” When at fault, come clean, and do so cleanly. Mom always said honesty and candidness brings a person furthest in life… I wish I could have stuck to that mentality more.

“I don’t care.”

Huh? She.. doesn’t care? My mind is trying to catch up for a brief second. Is this the girl that will forget everything once an earnest apology is offered?

“Just… stop calling, okay? I’ll call you.”

What the…?

“Setsuka. No..! Don’t hang up! Talk to me! I’m sorry! Look, I’m sorry!!”

Only as I hear the words form do I realize that the desperation in my voice is truly pathetic. I am supposed to be her big brother? More like a big loser.

“I don’t care, Nii-san. You’re not the Nii I know anymore.”

And then the beeping.

The beeping..!

She hung up on me.

SHE HUNG UP ON ME!

Fuck.

That.

Beeping!

It is only at the last possible moment that my brain catches up and I throw the damn phone in the pillow rather than the floor.

I rush to get my jacket and literally dash out of the apartment. The gym. I’m going to run. I need to get out. Get out get out get out!

Before I face that guy who is the cause of this fucking disaster!

I’m going to set a new record time to get to the gym. Easy. Really easy. And then handle every damn weight I can find until I can’t stand anymore. Or maybe a sparring partner…

Or simply until this painful rage passes and makes way for a clarity that doesn’t involve breaking bones and strangling dad.

Fat chance.


	56. Penance or Perversion?

## 56\. Penance or Perversion?

31 October 2012, Jenny’s room

I have never felt this much regret over trying to placate Setty on one of her whimsical ideas.

A jawbreaker here or there, no big deal. Helping her sneak out when mom and dad aren’t watching? No big deal, either.

But this outfit? That is just pushing even my bottom line!

“Come on Setty…” I plead, but she resolutely shakes her head no, smiling at me as if she’s seeing the stars fall down from the sky and gets to make all the wishes she wants without limitation.

“It’s amazing, Nee-san! It’s the best costume. See? We’re matched! If you don’t go, then mine will just be frumpy and boring.”

Noooo, we’re not matched at all! How is yours even comparable to this? It’s like black and white! Water and fire! Pain and pleasure! Completely utterly different!

Behind me, mom’s sniggering is especially hurtful. Why is she taking Setty’s side on this? Just then, her hands firmly tug on the cords and I feel the air being squeezed out of my lungs, and I can’t even find the air to complain anymore.

“It’s your own fault, young lady. Who told you to let your sister arrange your Halloween costume?”

Mom’s amusement is full of the I-told-you-so schadenfreude that she is so great at employing against us kids. Not that she even told me not to let her do this. Thankfully, she releases the proverbial reigns just a little to the point where I can comfortably breathe again. Has she worn one of these things herself in the past? She must have.

“How could I have known she’d come up with something this embarrassing?!”

I scowl but the other two just end up laughing; seeing Setty and mom agree on something is as scary as it is weird. It just makes me remember what these clothes I am putting on are, and embarassment colours my cheeks.

“Why’d you get on my case when I got those leather pants to the point where I had to return them immediately, but just letting this happen?!”

My lashing out at mom is perhaps a bit undeserved as she isn’t the one to have chosen this costume, but it is damn suspicious. She doesn’t seem phased by my anger though, and I can feel her finally tying off that inconvenient torture object known as a corset.

They are fucking impossible things. There’s a difference between unwieldy and impossible, and this is clearly the latter!

“This is Halloween, love. Besides, you didn’t choose it yourself, so I’m not worried. It’s completely different from casually walking around like some sort of easy woman without morals.”

My scowl as I turn around to face mom probably says it all. “Now you’re just being mean. Shoo, shoo!” I tell her, starting to push mom out of the room who seems to be caught in a fit of laughter because of my predicament. Yes, she definitely needs to go. I’ll do the rest myself!

“Just call if you need more help, and make sure to show your face before you leave, okay?” she utters between her laughs, and I am not sure if it is motherly concern or schadenfreude that is making her suggest it.

“Shoo!”

The door closes with a very satisfying click into the frame. I turn around again, feeling a bit flushed and peering at Setty, whose expression is torn between utter glee and utter adoration as she looks at me.

Can I even put up a fight when faced with that expression?!

If you don’t try… I perform as deep a breath as I can before moving on.

“I think you should be going with Cain, though. You were so pumped up about going trick and treating with him the previous years.”

My excuse isn’t much of an excuse - our trick and treating are the best memories! - but she’s been acting so weird since the trial.

“I put Cain in the doghouse. He’s been bad.” she responds, sticking out her tongue for the typical laughs but I can tell she’s annoyed I even brought him up just now.

The struggle to repress a snort is real: the mental image of that kid chained up in a physical doghouse somehow strikes me in an irresistable way on my funny bone. No matter how I think of it, I can’t help but feel he deserves such treatment, and just a bit of the guilt for taking his place tonight disappears. Still, there’s a lot more where that came from.

Nope, nope nope! I can’t go feeling bad for myself right now. I’ve got to support her!

The little perverted manipulator! Good on you, Setty! You go girl!

“But did it have to be like this? I’m going to look like a damn prostitute! Or a slut!”

Aaah, why’d I go back to complaining?! I thought I was going to be a supportive big sister just now and then my mouth and mind betrayed me!

The heavenly smile that slips onto her features is accompanied by a nod as she holds out the silken dress that I need to put over the corset, almost as if revering me. “You’re not that nor a slut, sis. You’re a vampire! A gorgeous woman of four hundred decenniums, a lady who is in the prime of her afterlife!”

Damn, she’s a little manipulator, too! I know because I’m giving in to that pathetic ‘I really want you to’ gaze of hers feeling both flattered and embarrassed at the same time.

Why am I not fighting this more, but just putting this dress on without a complaint? Catching a glance of myself in the mirror, I can’t help but feel this is a thousand times more embarrassing than when Cain was getting an eyeful because of a little sweat!

This is so not fair, Setty! This isn’t an apology you are making me do but a torture you are putting me through!

Then suddenly, I understand. Is this why this is all she wanted to do for her birthday? Setty! You scamp!

“So. What are you, then?”

I have to counter with something to keep my mind away from my building up shame, because any more of this fanatic stuff and I might just turn into a bat. Or dust. Disappearing into the ground sounds _great_ right about now…

Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think her brother put her up to this costume idea! Why else would an elven-years-old girl come up with this kind of weird costume?!

She takes a moment to twirls around, causing her simplistic white dress to billow out a little bit. The simple cotton stands really in contrast to this Victorian-inspired black silk and leather combination she’s forced me into for this evening. Even in terms of skin shown, her outfit is the absolute opposite, with cuffs that go to her wrists and snugly hug them.

“I’m going to be your snack. What else could I possibly be?”

Her response is as saucy as it is weird. Okay…? What else? What am I not getting here?

My gaze must be quite funny, because she bursts out in laughter.

“Your expression is so weird, Nee-san. It doesn’t fit all that effort you put into being pretty!”

I give her a playful push. “Oh, shut up. Just tell me what you are holding out on me, because you are holding out on something, you little scamp.”

She giggles and nods. “Fine fine. Just promise you won’t be mad. I had Cassandra’s help a little bit with this costume.”

Now that explains a lot, and my eyes roll. I should have known. Where else would this little kid suddenly get so much inspiration from for a Victorian vampire outfit? Geez. Maybe her dad is right that Cassandra is a bad influence on her…

She’s digging through a plastic bag that’s been conveniently placed in the corner of the room, and out of it comes what I can only imagine as a BDSM collar. Holy fuck.

That’s 100% a bad influence. Completely. Utterly!

My dropped jaw caught her attention, and she laughs again as she clicks the collar around her neck. “See? I’ll wear this, and you hold the leash. I’m the food you take with you for when you get thirsty!”

“What the hell, Setty? How’d you even come up with this? If people see me I am never going to live this down!” I almost yell at her, only remembering to keep my voice somewhat acceptable because causing a fuss might just make mom and dad end the outing entirely, and then I’d be in the doghouse together with Cain.

But is this weird outfit the price I want to pay just to make her happy? Come on, Setty!!

“Sure you are. Come look at this. Come!” She seems childishly happy to move on to the next step, and the last thing to come out of the bag is a long tube with a sealed bag at the end; it reminds me just a little of a blood transfusion bag like you see in hospitals.

“See? I’m going to hide this under my armpits! And then next is the tube is in my arm! Like this! So when you want a drink, you can just pretend to slit my wrist with your evil talons, hold your wine glass under it - here it is! - and have grapejuice blood come out!”

Even though I can tell that Cassandra and probably Timothy helped out with these accessories, I find myself actually looking forward to scouring the night tonight. This costume combination.. it is really amazing. Far better and way more memorable - ugh - than last years ghost. And the year before that with the atrocious superhero stuff.

Look how bubbly and excited she is: her words aren’t even coming out sensibly anymore. That’s too damn cute!

Fuck it, let’s do it! Haters be damned!

Soon, I finish putting on the finishing touches with some hairbrushing, makeup and footwear that lifts me up just a bit more. In the meanwhile, she’s affixed her little bloodletting-apparatus with some tape to her chest, and with the white dress over top, I can’t even tell it is there anymore.

Not that I pay much attention to that; her doting gaze is hard to ignore! Her enthusiasm for this night out is so damn cute and adorable.

“Nee-san, you are going to make the guys give us all their candy because they’ll love your costume! And I’ll have everyone else give the candy because they’ll feel bad and empathize with me!”

And with a sentence like that, her cuteness shatters into a thousand motes of imaginary light. Did you have to say that?!

She’s totally a manipulative, sweets-obsessed little miss grubby mittens! She’s as manipulative as that brother of hers!

I can’t help but to vindictively spritz her with some of my perfume, but she darts out of range like the little monkey she is that clowns around without a care, pretending to have ended up in a coughing fit due to it. Soon, we’re both stuck laughing at eachother for no real reason other than that we are having fun.

“Eee! Don’t forget your fangs, sis! And your glass! Let’s go and become rich!”

Hurriedly, I follow her last instructions, and off we go to terrorize the neighborhood… dear God.

I almost forgot.

We’re definitely leaving through the back door. I’m not giving mom more ammunition to shame me with! Or dad any photos… hell no.


	57. Utter Unfairness

## 57\. Utter Unfairness

2 November 2012, Setsuka’s room

The plastic bag resting on my desk is empty.

It should not be, but it is. It should have lasted me at least a week!

As I am about to complain again, I need to lean over.

Blaarrghhh. Ugh. Soo.. disgusting! I spit out a bit more vomit into the bucket, and feel a bit better.. but still utterly atrocious.

Clara is so unfair. I earned all that! With hard work! And effort!

I fall back onto the bed. No school for me today. Apparently there’s no point in having stomach cramps and vomit breath in a classroom. Pfft, I could so hold that stuff back if she didn’t make me stay in bed like this!

Everyone knows you are more likely to vomit when horizontal than when you just stand up right. There’s gravity to contend with that way!

Just because I was bored when I couldn’t sleep last night, and gorged myself on chocolates, and then vomited over the hallway carpet when trying to make it to the toilet.. she took all of it away.

Stupid FAKE! I earned that! Does she think it was easy to come up with that costume idea? Or to rope Cassandra in to help me with those props?? Bah!

Okay. Nee-san earned most of it. But she gave it all to me. So I earned it, too!

I feel it bubbling up again, and I bolt upwards to sit up straight. It has to be like… eleven o’clock in the morning. Maybe noon even. Such a stupid time to be in bed at!

Knocking. There’s knocking on my door. Clara comes in holding a tray with tea and some boring dry biscuits. You took so many chocolates and sweets away, and _that_ is what you decide to serve me? You opportunist. You thieving fake!

The compassionate smile she offers me appears genuine, but I know her better than this. Even if she’s sitting on the edge of my bed for a supportive chat, holding her hand out against my forehead.

I don’t have a cold, Clara! I don’t have the flu. I ate too many chocolates. That’s all! Geez!

Still, I let her do her old wives method thing of gauging my temperature with her hand. Why fight a trivial gesture like that when I am feeling strung out like a wet noodle to begin with.

“Feeling better?”

I nod my head. Of course I’m feeling better: one does not show weakness to the enemy!

An eyebrow arches up, and she glances into the bucket besides my bed, which I just recently refilled with foul-smelling stomach contents.

“Uh huh. Let’s have some tea. You must be thirsty.”

She didn’t ask, even though her voice has that asking quality to it. But she isn’t waiting for an answer, and is just doing. She’s such a contrary riddle of human weirdness sometimes.

But yes, yes I am. A drink would be amazing.

After she finishes pouring the tea, I take the cup from her and immediately drain the cup. It is only a few moments later that I realize I’m lucky I didn’t get scalded. Hmpf. She must have screwed up with the kettle. Or got distracted with the telly.

But I won’t complain this time.

“Your sister is doting too much on you. She shouldn’t have given you all those sweets.”

“It’s not her fault!” I exclaim, and an awkward mix of a burp and acidic remnants bubble up in my throat. Yuck. At least I’m not throwing up again.

“No, it is yours. You ate nearly a kilo’s worth of chocolates, mints and whatever else you collected. What the hell were you thinking, young lady?”

I’ll stay silent. Any response will just provoke the volcano that is currently refilling my cup. How can a volcano pour such lukewarm tea, though? It’s a world wonder!

“During the past few Halloweens, we’ve let you hold onto your sweets in the understanding that you wouldn’t go eat all of them at once. And even though your gains were a bit ludicrous this year compared to the past, we thought you were a smart girl who knows how to say no to the face of temptation.”

She sighs, her hand running through my hair in that way she likes to do. I want to refute her, but fighting with her? I haven’t got the energy for it in the least. Just… go away.

“I can guess why, though. You’re still fighting with Cain, and you’re feeling sad over it.”

“Not true!” I blurt out, peering at her.

“You’re not fighting with him…?”

She sounds disbelieving, and I realize that.. well, yes. We’re fighting. Stupid Nii-san.

“I’m not feeling sad! It’s his fault!”

Clara struggles to repress a little giggle, shaking her head. “Where two people fight, there’s two people at fault, Setsuka. You can’t have a fight if you’re not willing to have one.”

Bah. Stupid grown-up logic. Are you trying to trick me with some silly wordplay again? That’s so frustrating. I’m not a kid anymore!

“He’s the one calling all the time. I’m not calling him!”

“Exactly. You’re not answering the phone. And you know he wants to talk to you.”

“But how can I be fighting with him if I’m not seeing him nor talking to him nor yelling at him? This isn’t my fault at all!”

She sips her own tea for a moment as she looks at me, and I am reminded that she refilled my cup. I mirror her motion and sip my tea, too. Did I call it lukewarm? Let’s call a pig a pig and say it is ‘cold’.

“The cause for the fight may not be yours. But you are standing in the way of you two making up, right? So the fight lasting this long is completely your fault.”

Damn adult logic. Why does she have to sound so reasonable?!

I meet her gaze.

“I don’t care.”

She sighs, shaking her head slightly.

“You’ll figure it out eventually.”

Why’s she being so vague? She’s not a weird martial arts movie sensei that gets to sound righteous with all sorts of mystical nonsense statements.

“Figure out what?”

“That you’re acting like a little kid.”

Jellybelly saying that is one thing, but you, fake mom?! You don’t get to s….. oh wow. That’s what they call an epiphany, huh?

I find my own volcano immediately go dormant with the realization. Fake mom is just trying to get a rise out of me! I am not falling for your oh-so-obvious ploy! Nuh huh!

“I don’t care.”

I repeat myself. She sighs and drains her cup, moving to stand back up. Hah. I win this battle, fake mom!

“Stay in bed for another hour, and maybe try to come downstairs then if your stomach finally stops acting up.”

As she walks away to the door, I feel just a bit of panic welling up.

“What about my hard-earned chocolates?”

I blurt out those words. I want them back. I earned those! She doesn’t have the right to take them away from me!

“I thought you didn’t care.”

The door clicks closed.

Wait. Did she chuckle just now? I swear I could hear her evil little snigger just now. That malevolent little trait that only witches with warts on their noses ought to be capable of as their evil schemes come to fruition.

Nii-san, it is all your fault!


	58. The Eternal Temptress

## 58\. The Eternal Temptress

9 November 2012, at the grocery store

Our eternal confrontations have brought me here again, my friends.

I see all of you haven’t changed a bit.

Or perhaps a little. I see the spunky one of you lot got a makeover; labels may not define who we are but you look a whole lot fresher for it. And the oddball has finally fallen into line, having gained a tan to match the hue of his contemporaries.

They are not like the snobby ones across the aisle, with their slender necks and tall statures and fancy names.

I take a deep breath. What the fuck am I doing?

You’ve got to get your act together, Quinn.

Am I trying to find excuses? To repeat things?

No.

Decisively, I push my wheelchair forwards, out of the alcohol aisle without even touching a single product.

It was nice seeing you, my friends.

Instead, the little basket I can drag along with me holds some apples, ham, bread, milk, sausages and eggs. We’ve still got the canned beans for breakfast, and the apples are just there to not completely fall into the unhealthy English breakfast stereotype.

The lass at the service counter sees me approach and opens up another lane. How kind of her… or maybe it is just because the open lane is narrower and unlikely to fit my wheelchair.

Ugh. I’m going to pretend she’s just being kind. But not the pitying kind.

We produce some small talk, and I find myself staring in her eyes as she works. The youthful twinkle and artful touches of mascara aside, I really just want to know what she sees.

Does she see someone to pity? Or am I still attractive enough despite being about two decades older than her? Nevermind the wheelchair bit, that too turns women off I believe.

As I pay, she offers me a smile. I try to find meaning in it, and I think I found it.

A damn pity smile. Figures.

Ah well. I collect the last of my products, making sure nothing will get squashed in the shopping bag. Once I am finally satisfied with the way the products are stacked, I wheel my way out of the store while shaking my head at myself. The irony isn’t lost on me.

How can I be so eager for some validation, while the son that hates me is trying so hard to ignore every bit of female attention that drifts his way? It must be a cruel joke played upon me by Heaven.

Just the visit to the park last week was like an impossible battle to get that kid to agree upon. If it wasn’t for Zoe, I don’t think he’d have agreed to come. Were it not for Zoe’s tactful disappearance on some kind of call and leaving him to push me around, I doubt we’d ever have spent some quality time together that did not involve the presence of Black Sabbath’s guttural roars booming through the walls.

That damn kid.

I knew something was wrong when he tried to steer me onto a smaller side path to avoid those girlfriends approaching in the distance. Too bad for him, but they noticed, and they basically admitted he’s the little stud of the group that refuses to put out.

It should be a good thing, but in a way… I am just so damn ashamed of him.

‘Girls are not going to throw themselves at you your whole life, boy!’

That’s what I wanted to yell at him when he finally found an excuse to get rid of them. Is he going to be a damn monk for life?

It is a good thing Matilda can’t see this happening; she was always looking forward to meeting his girlfriend and perhaps seeing the kind of grandkids that’d result.

Oh, Matilda…

The sudden tap on my shoulder makes me realize I just stood still on the sidewalk, lost in my own thoughts. I crane my neck and… what’d you know, it is him! I can’t believe it!

That’s the first time he’s actually initiated contact.

Matilda! Your son and I are finally gett–

“Oh. You’re alive. Nevermind.”

And off he saunters towards our apartment without waiting up for me. Holding that damn shopping bag. Without an inkling of care towards his father or his budding glee.

THIS DAMN BOY!


	59. Survivors Guilt

## 59\. Survivors Guilt

17 November 2012, taking the bus to go shopping

My fingers absently tap on the window of the bus.

Survivors guilt.

That is what mom called it yesterday.

I laughed it off then… but the more I think of the term, the more it hurts. Just how right can she possibly be?!

The landscape still passes by as if nothing is going on. In the reflection I can barely see that the frustration has me biting my lower lip as I continue to inwardly rebuke myself.

Face it, Jen. It is the facts. You’re feeling fucking guilty over winning one over on that shitty brother of hers.

She’s living with us. And the only way she’d live with us is if she wanted to live with us. There’s nothing more to it than that!

Unfortunately, this is one of those situations where the head and the heart are at a staunch disagreement, and resolving it is apparently as old a problem as any. It has caused wars and bloodshed and a lot of other suffering, nevermind the fact it is a suffering affliction itself to begin with!

I didn’t have to wear that ridiculous outfit for her… but I did.

I didn’t have to give her my share of our earnings…. but I did.

She’s more fond of sweets than I am, anyways.

I didn’t even have to splurge on that self-drawing-hands poster print of one of Eschers works that she saw in the library. But yet again… I did.

I didn’t have to do any of it!

I would never have done at least the first one!

The others.. maybe. She’s Setty. I’d have spoiled her a bit no matter what, I think. Little siblings are meant to be spoiled by their older siblings. It’s just how it is supposed to be!

Could I go cold turkey on spoiling her? To deny and end this guilt from continuing? But wouldn’t I be a terrible sister if I did that? Just like a switch? Ughhhh….

In the reflection of the window, I notice a gaze. Ah crap.

Another horndog stare.

Usually, I’d ignore it, but I fucking like my outside-the-window-mind-cocoon too much to let him bash his way in like this without punishment.

I turn my head, and give him a vile stare. He averts his gaze, blushing a bit knowing that I caught him.

This stuff happens far too often nowadays. Just because I’m a damn girl with tits and red hair does not mean I want to be the subject of your dirty little fantasies, asshole!

As I am about glance away again, he seems to have changed his mind, and stood up from his seat to sit besides me. Fuck. Wasn’t I clear enough?

“Hi. I’m Pete.”

He’s holding his hand out for me to shake it, and I’m just staring at him in the hope he’ll get the message.

“You seem to be a bit out of sorts. Anything I can do to help?”

I do my best to suppress my inner groan. It’s a fucking white knight. The saviour of girls everywhere that never need their fucking grandstanding witticisms. Do they actually have any success with this kind of lame opener after having been caught perving to begin with?

It was the lip bite that made him take the plunge, wasn’t it? Ugh. I swear I need to start wearing a mask to stop getting this kind of annoying bullshit attention.

“You can fuck off, Peter.”

The hostility dripping off my voice ought to leave no chance for a misunderstanding anymore. He frowns, sighing as he realizes he isn’t ever going to even get to entertain the dream of reaching ‘first base’ with me.

“Look, you’re pretty, but you are also a pretty stupid bitch. No need for the attitude, okay? I was just trying to help.”

I roll my eyes and look out of the window to avoid further conversation. He turns to look to the front, but it isn’t as if I can’t feel his gaze dirtying me up from the corner of his eye.

Ugh. You are so going to regret this, Peter.

Ten minutes later, we finally reach his stop, and he stands up to leave. Fine.

I’ll give you a parting gift, asshole.

“I’m sorry, okay? Just a bad day. Have a nice day, Peter.”

I’m not an actor, but it isn’t like guys are particularly observant when their brains are between their legs. Something as simple as a light touch on his shoulder makes him glance back at me with a hopeful smile, shaking his head.

“It’s Pete. No worries. Maybe we’ll meet again some day, okay?”

He sounds so hopeful and proud. Yes. You’ve got an ego, I got it.

I force a smile to my lips as he leaves, and as the bus moves back into motion.

It is too bad he lost his wallet.

Ooh, ten quid. I’ll take that.

Aww, look at that library card. He was cuter whenever that picture was taken.

I hope that girl in his wallet isn’t his girlfriend. The picture seems a bit too old, so probably not. But I’d pity her greatly if he is in fact her boyfriend. Stupid horndog.

That Barclays card? I’ll break it for you, don’t worry. Nobody will get into your account. But you’ll still have to order a replacement, asshole.

After I finish rifling through his wallet, I press the signaling button and move to stand as my own stop is finally coming up. I toss the wallet in a corner underneath a chair, far away from where I’m at. Just to deny it, if worst comes to worst.

As I leave the bus, I find myself wearing a far better mood on my face than I was when I got into the bus. Shopping for gifts with a scowl isn’t any good.

Then.. I realize.

There’s no way that asshole is getting himself a new card before the holiday shopping season is over its apex. A bubbling laughter escapes me that attracts the attention of some other passersby, but I just give them a fuck-you-the-fun-is-mine-to-have glance back.

Merry early-christmas, Peter!


	60. Precognizance

## 60\. Precognizance

5 December 2012, driving in a freezing cold tin-can that is a second-hand car

As the car slips in the slurry for a moment, I can only groan in annoyance whilst struggling to right the thing in the correct direction once more. Leave it to Mother Nature to toss this extra obstacle in my path for the monthly emergency call that has me driving down into whatever crappy neighborhood my callee calls in from.

Ugh. I could be sitting at home, in my nice, warm sofa. With a cup of hot cocoa. And whatever soppy drama it was that Bea wanted to watch tonight.

But nope, the plans have changed.

Why is it always these low-budget neighborhoods that end up at the bottom of the priorities of the few hard workers the borough employs?

It is probably their damn bosses. Nobody in a managerial position with the government lives in these kinds of areas. The pay might not be good, but it is enough to escape a place like this.

Those workers are likely on snow truck duty this time. During storms they end up having to clear the fallen trees and branches off the roads, and when it floods I’ve seen them assist the firemen on occasion. It’s got to be a thankless job; nobody ever happy you are there but always upset you took ages to get there.

Nevertheless, we’re getting there. I can see the gym complex in the distance, and not too far away from it I see the one that wrecked my movie night.

Alas.

A short honk gets his attention as I drive up, although the light beams probably would have done just fine. Still, now he knows it is me, and he does turn around.

He doesn’t approach though. He’s not crying; good I suppose. It would have been a first for him to show that. And I’d have to question them to be acting tears, given how much Meredith Meadows has been bragging about his talents.

Fine, out into the cold I go.

The cold snowflakes immediately hit me in the face, and I can only conclude that the heater in my car does actually make a difference, even if I still felt like I was freezing in there.

One more case of hindsight making one count their blessings.

“What’s up, Cain?”

I’m not going to bother sounding all cheerful. He won’t buy it any more than I believed his progress at the Institute.

“The place is closed.”

I repress my urge to roll my eyes. With a snow storm like this, what’d you expect? They’ve been yelling it over every radio and television signal since early morning to stay in and not go out unless strictly needed.

“Yes it is. And that is the reason you finally decided to call?”

The annoyance slips into my voice unintentionally, but it is likely for the best. He’s more likely to communicate when he’s agitated.

“What else do I have your number for, Marc? To have a chitchat over fucking tea and crumpets?!”

He lashes out vehemently as he moves up close to me, the typical behaviour of an angry bully wanting an excuse to hit stuff. Or to have his ego supplemented to a level he reckons is a minimum for a human being to look in the mirror with.

I raise my hand, shaking my head slightly while looking him in the eyes.

“This is not how we talk, Cain. You asked me to come, and thus I’m here in this godforsaken weather. But if you don’t calm down and rinse out your mouth this instant, I’m leaving. I’m here to help you, not to be your verbal punching bag. Understood?”

His eyes combatively find mine. I don’t care; I’ve seen eyes like those on some true muscleheads, and even then I didn’t flinch.

“So. What is it?”

I continue to meet his gaze, and I can hear his knuckles cracking in his fist.

“I’m sorry, Marc.”

The relief inside of me escapes in the form of a smile as I pat his shoulder, pulling him along. “Come, let’s talk in my car. It’s just as cold, but at least it is out of the wind.”

I make sure he actually comes to sit in the car before I move over to sit back inside myself.

Ahhh. The one degree of elevated temperature truly does make a difference.

“So do you want me to throw some potshots out like usual, or are you in a sharing mood tonight?”

I joke slightly to take away the razors edge that is the silence that rules the innards of this vehicle. The streetlights just barely show me his eyes as he glances over, and what I find there is a mix of anger and hopelessness.

“It’s not working anymore.”

Okay. That is sharing, but bloody hell, I might as well make some potshots when you share this little about your problem.

“What isn’t working anymore?”

“Exercise.”

I stare at him in the darkness before uttering a sigh.

“Okay. So what you mean is that the crutch you cheated the tests with isn’t working, and that you are back at zero. Right?”

His head turns, his expression filled with pain and anger. Ah dang, I should not have said that.

“Are you going to fucking gloat, Marc? Well good job! You figured it out! And now you are getting to tell me ‘I told you so!’ and boy, doesn’t that feel absolutely great? To point out how you failed at your damn job at fixing me?”

Yeah. I should have seen that coming. As always, he’s looking for a fight with anyone who will take the bait.

“No, Cain. Why would I? I’ve wanted you to heal. Healing kids like you is the reason I went to work in a place like the Institute as opposed to some university career filled with theoretical and philosphical mumbojumbo.”

It is key to mix the personal with the compassionate. To become a face as opposed to a title. To be Marc and not the Doctor Therapist. Some of my charges cross the hurdle in the first minute, and then there’s those who never breach it.

As for Cain, I am not even sure if I am a face or a title to him. His emotions and state of mind might be as clear as day, but the way he is always on his guard with everybody just doesn’t let people in to see the real him.

“Maybe you should have.”

His response is as combative as ever.

“Then you wouldn’t have called my number tonight. Where would you be then, I wonder?”

He sighs softly. The answer takes a while, but eventually, it does come in a soft, evasive tone. “One of three places. The hospital because of frostbite. The morgue because of hypothermia. Or jail because I smashed his fucking face in the right way this time.”

I struggle to contain myself here; he doesn’t seem to be lying and this gives me cause to order a mandatory hold on the boy for further counseling, were it to be needed.

But that would probably just close him off again, and we’d be back where we started when we met a few years ago. Minus the clean slate; I’d be tagged by him as an antagonistic, not-to-be-trusted traitor at the very least.

He is finally opening up. I can’t waste this. No; I need to capitalize on this. But how? I can’t let him have an excuse to push me away now that he finally took the step to admit he needs help.

“Cain, you are a bright kid. You know that you’ve given me enough reason to take some very drastic measures. But I want to work with you; but that takes you working with me, too. No more bullshit like back in the Institute, okay? Just your full effort for your future. No lies and no deceit.”

Once more, I can hear his knuckles crack as he balls his fist, but this time, the same sound is not nearly as menacing sounding. This time, it is the sound of inner conflict.

‘Can you do that, Cain?’

It is not a sentence I speak, but it is the one I am thinking. And I am going to wait until he answers it, even if I have to wait all night for him to get such a promise to cross his lips.


End file.
